Oh, I have a partner. And I really do love him. But he’s always so optimistic and happy, and it cannot occur to him why little things - or nothing at all - make me upset.
To his credit, he really does try to help me. And I’ve used him as a lifeboat more times than I’m willing (or comfortable) to admit. But he just doesn’t get it.
I have a fascination with labels. They give some sort of anchorage, they’re a reminder of what something is. I understand why some would like to live without them. But for me, they make me feel better because it’s like I get some deeper part of myself. It’s not of out narcissism.
I really want to find someone to talk to, but I’m so afraid of becoming a further weight on my parent’s accounts. I’m not quite enough on my feet to pay for my own sessions, and what with the cost of school, and whatever other costs I might incur (clothing, food, etc.), it just makes me feel extraordinarily guilty.
I guess, but if I was smart, I’d feel like I’d have a scrap of common sense. Sometimes I wonder how much of me is actually grounded in reality, you know? But what you’re saying does make me feel a little better.
I fear that there is something mentally wrong with me. Practically everyone on my mother’s side has some sort of mental issue (anxiety, bipolar, pathological lying, hallucinations…). When I was younger, and sometimes even now, my mom used to say “We’re so lucky that you came out normal”. And I feel sort of horrible proving her wrong.
Yes, the feel of not wanting to cure yourself. You kinda get used to your quirks and start liking them. You embrace your (shite) ways.
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