It’s ages since I posted. I’m sorry. There’s lots happening; I’m incredibly tired and I’m not sure how to deal with any of it. This might still sound cryptic and rambly, sorry.
I had lunch with a friend over the weekend. She’s one of the most uniquely kind, gentle and genuine people I know (and she has the most beautiful baby I think I’ve ever laid eyes on). She warms my heart. What struck me about seeing her again was her optimism; her hope. Especially the hope and faith she has in me. I don’t get it.
It’s like a repeat conversation my therapist and I had again last week.
The Wonder Therapist: “Will you look at yourself? When will you believe the reality?”
Me: Umm, never I guess. I don’t know.
I find it hard to join this reality she keeps pointing out to me with the “me” I know. Find it hard to believe in the reality.
Even harder to understand the faith that others have in me.
And harder still to believe that the future will hold anything good, anything I want. Any time I think about that I fall apart.