The most difficult things are normally the ones we need.


“I am not okay; I need help!” “I need help to be able to move forward and to continue because I already tried so many times and in this specific moment, I can’t do it alone. I know I can’t. I don’t know how to.”

I told my therapist yesterday, with my voice shaking. A cry for help in the face of defeat.

Accepting this, again, is perhaps the most difficult thing to do. "Why am I here again?” Which comes from a place of “I shouldn’t be here anymore.”

"My mental health situation should be fixed already." "My life should be fixed and in order. Fuck! I’m 45 already!" 

"It sounds like you are lacking compassion towards yourself and being judgmental with you," said my therapist.

"Yeah, and why do you think that is?" I responded with a bit of a defensive voice.

If being on the ground in despair and frozen again doesn’t scream “you need help,” I don’t know what else does.

But it wasn’t just the ground. It was the mirror and my body and my face and my health and my mind and the barely being. 

Plus much more.

Acceptance is a form of surrender- surrendering into what is, whatever that means. It is normally a reality I don’t want, or that I believe it should be different and dismissed because I thought this was ‘fixed’ already.

Forgetting all the times I have exclaimed I don’t need fixing. No one needs fixing.

And mental health illnesses don’t have expiration dates. They belong, in a lot of cases, to people who are just trying to stay alive and get better and hopefully be able to dream and live again.

And for me, in this hopeless moment, it means knowing I need to go back to therapy twice a week and realizing I can't do it alone. My mind doesn't have that capacity yet.

Here,

Paty ♥
Love. Zeal. Balance.

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