You know part of what’s kept me alive for so long is that I’m a “Good Girl”. Good Girls do the right thing. Good Girls listen to their therapists. Good Girls take their medication on time everyday. Me wanting a gold star from my therapist or psychiatrist has kept me making “healthy” choices for them, not me.
But me? I just want to feel good. And hell at this point I’ll settle for any duration. But that’s being Bad.
I don’t know how to explain how I could get to a point where I care so little for my own well-being. Sure there’s a daddy who didn’t love me and countless slights throughout my life to tell me I’m worthless. And while I may intellectually know that that’s not true, try telling that to my heart. She’s a sensitive bitch who keeps standing up for more abuse. She’s got spirit, I’ll give her that.
But the truth is I don’t know what I need. I have countless healthcare professionals telling me their thoughts and maybe that’ll go somewhere but for now it’s just about getting from one moment to the next.
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