Trust, Healing, and Fairy Dust

Fair warning: there’s no actual fairy dust in this ramble. It’s more the idea of an easy fix, or maybe the wish for a fucking magical cure-all. I don’t know. Maybe I’m channeling my inner Peter Pan, not wanting to grow up. Maybe I just get tired of trite, shitty titles. Maybe this is a trite, shitty title.

Who fucking knows.

ANYWAY.

I love my husband and my mom, but they suck.

Harsh, but true lately. They’re both fixers, they both want me to be better. They offer solutions, not realizing that that’s part of the problem.

This week, they’ve both said things that made me feel insecure and unworthy. I want to believe that they didn’t intend for that. But I also recognize that they see the worst of me.

My counselor tells me I’m doing really well. I’m high functioning: I get out of bed, I shower on a regular basis, I look put together. I create a well-placed, well-crafted mask to hide how I feel.

And, Nate and my mom are two of the people who are privy to the realness. The bad days. The sitting out the couch. The dark thoughts. And. I feel like they both used it against me this week.

Again. I don’t think this was an intentional thing but…

Nate and I were discussing it last night, and he said something about how he missed “his Caylee” and I said, well post-partum, and life and whatever maybe this is who I am. And maybe this is who I always was: okay, not really, I haven’t always been this bad. But, I used to have such thick, high walls, that I didn’t let people see. I hated being vulnerable to people. And it fucking sucks that the two people I’m most vulnerable to hurt me on the same week.

Nate also commented that he wasn’t sure I wanted to get better. And I wonder about that too, on a fairly regular basis. Am I self-sabotaging? Do I like being sick? Do I like having an excuse to not do things?

I don’t have an answer for that. I want to think that’s not the case, obviously. But I also have a little voice in my head that says it’s not the depression and anxiety, it’s me. I’m lazy, I’m boring, I’m worthless. And this week, that voice has sounded a lot like two of the people I love and trust very much. Or trusted. Because let me tell you. I feel angry and hurt, and unworthy, and then like I’m letting them down by being angry with them.

It’s fucking hard to have such complicated emotions about things and not be able to find the words to express it to the people who need to hear it. Could I write it to them? Yes, but Mom would get defensive and shut me out for a while. Nate would get apologetic, until the next time he makes a similar comment.

Part of the problem is that neither of them have had clinical depression or anxiety. They don’t understand that while it seems like it’d be easy to get up and clean the house, or go for a walk, sometimes it’s all I can do to get out of bed and go to work.

I’m a huge advocate for empathy. I believe we should try to see the best in people. But, sometimes it’s hard to see the best in someone who lets you see the worst in them.

In that vein though, maybe those are the people who need our empathy the most.

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