Update II

[crowdog66]

*sigh*

So last night I went to bed about an hour after making my last post. George woke up. I told him I'd ordered chicken and cut myself.

We held each other. We hugged tight. We cried. We got up and washed out the wound and covered it with two large bandages so it wouldn't get rubbed/infected during the night. And we talked. A lot. He was loving and sympathetic and understanding and distressed and even more loving. I SO don't deserve him.

Usually I'm able to go to George immediately when these poisonous feelings start to overwhelm me. Why not this time? My only defense is that no one is perfect.

Just got up after sleeping 18 hours. (Yay, Diazepam and Seroquel!) I'll try to reply to all the individual responses to my last couple of posts, but I just don't have the strength right now, and later on the subject of my own failure might be too painful. So let me say THANK YOU right now to everybody who took the time to tap me and tell me that I'm not alone in this and that there are options out there.

Tomorrow the DBT group starts up again after the Christmas hiatus. I won't be able to talk about the actual injuring behavior (that's forbidden in case it provokes self-injuring in other group members), but it will still be good to get back into the groove of trying to learn how to deal with this.

And right now I'm waiting for a Domino's cheese pizza to arrive -- my all-time comfort food next to Haagan Daas chocolate ice cream. What is it with ordered-in food? Maybe just the instant gratification...

Comments

[madra-liath.livejournal.com]

I'm so, so glad you talked to someone about this. Don't get me wrong, I think it's incredibly brave of you to post about your problems online (and wonderful that you can), but it's no substitute for talking to someone in realtime and in meatspace.

We're all here for you, crowdog. Never forget that.