Sometimes I feel like a looser. A full blown looser who cannot make her relationships work. Who is closing up to thirty, but still has not made significant advancements in her career. Who is so damn afraid of the world that many times she likes to stay inside, hiding. As if when others cannot see me, they cannot judge me. Of course, the biggest judger is inside- the one I can never escape.
The mockumentary science once had to prove that sleeping is related to self-loathing. The scientist proving the hypothesis came up with the argument that we sleep in order to escape from the only thing we cannot escape while awake- ourselves. The more shame we have, the more we sleep. Although it was a joke, sometimes I am thinking, maybe it is not so far from truth at all, maybe it is not so ridiculous? Apart from the fact, that even in my sleep, I often cannot escape the dreams. Dreams of my ex boyfriends, dreams of my friends and ex-friends- there is just no escape.
I think I will survive, I have started seeing the light again and that, my friends, is a great achievement. When I started therapy three and a half years ago, I simply collapsed, deceased to something that practically could be called living, but the first years, at least, felt more like walking in sleep. Frankly, I remember better the years that preceded the last five years, than the last five years. Of course there was a lot to be survived- my breakup, moving to a new country, where finding friends is a problem for all the expats, back operation, constantly changing the apartments (because the rental market is a hell), work situation which was increasingly insecure and where at least the first two years my colleagues almost ignored me, a messy relationship with my new boyfriend, a blowout with my mother (who swore, she never wanted to see me again), the death of my cat. Well, I think I have named the main things.
When I read this over myself, it seems to me, that my survival is almost miraculous. It feels almost too much for the healthy person, needless to say, that for a person suffering from depression and anxiety disorder, the situation was a total and an utter mess. This is why it seems all like a dream, too many things, to almost believe it all happened. But it did and this is the blog where I am trying to come in terms with what happened now and what happened 30 years ago when I was a child. It has been a difficult road and there are still some significant roadblocks, but I think I am moving to the right direction.