Today, at group therapy, the others asked me why I wasn’t there last Tuesday. I don’t blame them for asking, and I know I’m there to learn to cope with these things, but I wished I could just get out of there, go home and go to bed. And stay there until things get a bit better. Anyhow, I answered their questions and tried to partisipate. It’s hard when the focus is on me, trying to figure out how I feel. And a bit embarassing to cry in front of strangers.
I told them my mom came to me last Wednesday, just ringing the doorbell, saying "it’s your mom, open the door" when I picked up the door phone. So I let her in. She did my dishes and took me home with her, making me get a shower, eat a bit, get dressed in something besides sweats and put on some make-up. I guess it helped a bit, but when I’m here (yup, again today, mom watched the dog while I was with the group) I feel I have to put on a happy face, to keep her from getting to disappointed, or scared, or just be helpless and annoying to her. Guess she sees through me, though.
It’s easier with mom than with dad. He thinks I just need to get a grip and get some routines in my life, and he hates that I’m taking meds. He told me that what he wanted for his birthday was for me to see a point of existing, to be happy, to see me make an effort. I don’t think he knows how much that hurt me – I hate to see the pain in my parents’ eyes, knowing it’s my fault, that I’ve caused this, to not be able to be perfect for them.
Thanks, guys. It’s good to feel loved, even thouh I don’t think I deserve it 🙂