Saturday:
I have an appointment with my psychologist Monday. It’s been 20 days since I last saw her. It feels like it’s been much longer…maybe because these past weeks have required more tenacity on my part to keep the pain buried. There were moments when I threw myself out there emotionally but again there was a great deal of planning and pondering before I spoke, even among those I knew understood and would not judge. The few moments I was able to speak candidly with my cousins and aunt did alleviate some anguish. But then I feel like it builds back up and those moments seem insignificant.
I am going to my aunts’ to exchange gifts. This is my mom’s sister, brother-in-law and my cousin—the smaller side of the family. My aunt knows I have low self-esteem and most likely is aware of my battle with depression. However, I wouldn’t consider her someone I would confide in without ruminating from all angles.
I was researching what a person goes through emotionally after a sexual assault—for one of my stories. As I was reading the struggles they face after the attack, I found similarities between them and myself…I shy away from getting close to people—especially men.

Tuesday:
I still find myself obsessively pondering the night at the Italian restaurant—16 days ago!! Who knew a simple word would have such an effect on me? Why can’t I just smile and recall it fondly? Why does it continue to make me sad and broken hearted?
I didn’t have a bad childhood—it would most likely be considered fortunate by most people in past generations. I got almost anything I wanted and I never had to worry about food or finding warmth. My teenage years…were normal in most ways I think: I struggled to find acceptance, I wanted a boyfriend—at least I secretly wanted one—the facade I presented to my peers said the opposite and I had mood swings. Then there was the invisible ball and chain of depression that has weighed me down since I was 13. What makes my pain different from some of my peers? The incessant negative thoughts? The perpetual bad mood? Or the morbid thoughts that haunt my psyche?
I listen to songs like Skillet’s “The Last Night,” Linkin Park’s “Easier to Run,” and Evanescence’s “Lithium” and think they get it. They know the pain some of us never escape.
I saw my psychologist yesterday and I brought up the Emotional Support dog. For one fleeting moment I felt hope…I felt like I could save my family the heartbreaking pain that comes with the ending of a life by that person’s hand. I felt like I could let go of my anger that causes me to see God in a negative light and not a benevolent one.

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