I don't think I fully recovered from my last burnout, and somewhere during the last month, or maybe even earlier, something happened to make me start spiraling slowly downward. My perceived failure at making progress with my social anxiety didn't do much to help.
Somehow I hadn't noticed until now that whatever little confidence I'd built up was shaken and I'd become more with drawn than I had been in the last few weeks.
I'm sure there's more to it, but I think sensing that my counselor didn't know what to do with me after just two months made me feel really uncertain about my future again. It really freaked me out. First in late June my speech therapist felt like my progress had come to a standstill and wanted to have a 2 month gap until our next appointment. I'd seen it coming, but I'm realizing now that it made me anxious about whether or not I was going to get any further, and if she couldn't help me, then who could? Now in early August it's pretty clear that my counselor doesn't know what to say to me after I've explained my "burnout". Her response made me feel like what I said had come at her from left field. I guess I had expected that this would be something she would be familiar with… and when she wasn't able to give me much of a response, or any real advice for that matter, my confidence in her plummeted.

I don't "do" faith. I need to have proof or evidence that something's going to work for me before I put my weight on it. This quote comes to mind:
"Do not accept my words on faith,
believing them just because I said them.
Be like an analyst buying gold who cuts, burns,
and critically examines his product for authenticity.
Only accept what passes the test
by proving useful and beneficial in your life."
In the beginning what I saw suggested to me that I could in the least be curious about trusting this person with what I had to say and with my recovery.
I tried to give her another chance, I mean, this one-time let down didn't warrant a total loss of trust and confidence. Obviously my subconscious held a grudge because I've now noticed that I've been a lot more guarded since then. I need to be able to trust her. I need this therapy to work. I don't have a lot of other options or resources available to me. Regardless of whether the fault is with me or with her I have to find a way to make it work. My life literally depends on it.

I remember in the weeks before my first appointment with her I was so close to suicide. The fact that I'd been there before made me want to go through with it that much more. But I kept telling myself to just wait until after that appointment. I didn't want to die, I just wanted a way out and suicide seemed like it was probably my only real option. I made a few pathetic attempts in moments when I felt like I just couldn't wait for something or someone to come along and change my mind anymore.
I think the only reason I'm here now is because a week before the appointment when I made what I'd hoped would be my final attempt the knife wasn't sharp enough. I wanted it to be sharp enough that I wouldn't slowly be sawing away at my wrists and end up passing out before I'd cut deep enough for the blood loss to cause death. I needed the knife to be sharp enough to make up for my fear and the fact that I wasn't ready. I just wanted to be able to do it quickly and without too much thought. I'd thought about it enough in the years prior to that moment.
I think it was mainly the shame of not being able to go through with it that convinced me to try again. I never wanted to be sitting in a tub of water fully clothed with a knife at my wrist again. I never wanted to feel so pathetic, and so disgusted with myself again. Needless to say, I made it to that appointment and I don't believe it was only desperation that helped me see a glimmer of hope there.

It's frightening to think that I might lose that hope. I don't want to have to come to the realization that I'm beyond help, or that I'll never be able to function like an average person or at least be able to pass as one, and have a life that is worth living.

I'm certainly not giving up yet. I'm just afraid.

I can't do this alone. I'm not always going to be enough to convince myself to untie the noose or put down the knife. I need to know that there is someone who believes in me even when I don't, and support me.


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