Looking back, it was definitely a prolonged nervous breakdown with an autistic meltdown spliced in the middle of it. Luckily, I now know what it was. Of course, if I knew then, maybe things would have been different, but oh well. Anyhow, I'm already doing things people say you should do treat help yourself after a nervous breakdown: I'm in talk therapy and doing EMDR. I'm studying CBT and DBT and wanting to delve deeper into ACT and Buddhism. I'm going to have a psych. appt. soon where I can refill my sleep meds (my heaven-sent hydroxyzine) and talk about a medical marijuana card and possible bipolar diagnosis. I'm looking forward to that. I'm slowly building small healthy habits around mindfulness and exercise. I'm planning ahead to start a life that actually considers and accommodates my autism, my disorders, so I can be genuinely happy. I won't be great, but I'll be good, and that's enough.
As of right now though, there are questions that I need to answer but am afraid to explore. I still don't know why I have so much anxiety around Grayson and PTK, especially around John and Linder. I just have a sinking suspicion it won't be easy to face.
—————
Sometimes I feel such complete, simple happiness, and I want to share it with him. Then I remember all that happened and continues to happen, and I get filled with so much anxiety. I am afraid, so afraid — not of him, but of myself, and I see so much of myself in him. I project my fears onto him, believing he believes all that I am afraid is true about myself, feeling he represents the worst moments in my life, the most shameful, the most painful. He was witness to it. He was there — as a friend, then as a lover, now as something slipping away. Do I resent him for seeing me at my worst? Not exactly, I don’t know. What I truly feeling is guilt and shame and self-loathing and anger at my existence. I hate that I hate myself. It would be easier, in a way, to resent someone else. But I don’t want to. It wouldn’t even fix anything; it would only make me feel worse. And how could I implicate the innocent? I cannot blame the blameless. He didn’t ruin me. I ruined myself. I just resent that he saw that and that now he knows the truth, an old version of it.