Another day of not knowing what to write. I went to therapy, drove around the city, and am now sitting in the parking lot of the church where support group meets. It starts in 45 minutes and I’ve been sitting here at least 45 minutes already. I usually go out to dinner with a friend from the group and adjust my therapy time around that. She told me this morning she couldn’t come and that’s too late to change my appointment. So, I did a lot of driving, listening to music, and talking on the phone. Now it’s the waiting game.
Therapy is turning out to be a ball buster. It’s great. She pushes me and makes me really analyze my life and my motives about life. How do I change? I’m not too sure. The first step is to recognize I do use my illness as power. Being sick gets me to be the center of attention. Everyone treads so cautiously around me. In doing so, I can’t have close and intimate relationships. If no one is close, no one can hurt me and leave me. Again. What a shitty way to live life.
I’m ready. Ready to change. Ready to be happy. Healthy. Self sufficient. Just writing that is scary. Doing it seems impossible. It can’t be, millions of people do it everyday. I want to be a million.