moments

I think I am good. I think I am fine. "I'm pulling out" I say to myself. "I'm regaining my confidence" I pretend.
Dr. She understands: it is hard to have confidence when you can't trust it. When your confidence has betrayed you with mania.
And I procrastinate
because in actuality I am still very shaky.
Literally.
Like this morning -these days it is often hard for me to wake up, to get up, I am not entirely sure why-
but this morning I forced myself up and as I started to stretch I froze and everything went shaky
In a new way.
"I just had a seizure" says my head.
and I am not scared
but I am.
And just now as I was painting -instead of all that I planned to do-
I feel the things that have been hurting in a softer way.
Until the realization filters in... "He really never loved you." That therapist that broke me. He simply used my intensities and my feelings to protect himself from the mistakes he had made with me. I was nothing special to him, simply a rebound toy of flattery that he used to stroke his own ego.
I suppose there is some form of flattery to me in that. And I did catch on. So I am also intelligent and those things I can utilize to re-stoke the dying flame of my confidence. So I will try to focus on that as my throat knots up and tears flow again and I try to hide it from my children. I will try to remind myself of the good that I am as I grieve the loss of my faith and hope in the professionals and institution that is not what it claims to be, experts in the tragedies of head injury; my tragedies.
...
This is taking much longer than I'd like and it is still difficult but I can be proud of the progress I have made as I remind myself that slow and steady are okay.