Exploring Mt. Everest in slippers.

Riiiight.  Because Batman's got his shit together.  After a couple of sessions with this psychologist I'm trying to define 'myself', a person separate from the events of my life. It's really tricky!  We are, all of us, the sum of our parts.  So the process is more about defining the things that negatively influenced me, recognizing, then trying to undo, all the damage.  Which version of me is the truest?  The scared child?  The insecure girl?  The isolated teen?  The assaulted young woman?  The exhausted mother?  The depressed mid-life-crisis woman?  None of them are 'me', they're not who I am, or who I ever was.  So I know who I'm not.  I have no idea who I am .  Who do I 'be'?  How do I define myself, and how do I become the best that person can be, when I'm stuck in a body that can't get out of bed?  Nothing like the profound questions when you're in existential confusion. I'm stuck with the...

Why? No, really.  Why? I had an appointment with a different psychologist last week, and I left feeling exhausted, numb, and vulnerable.  Starting from the beginning will do that to you. I was asked to work on a mind-map.  So far, there's still nothing on it.  I'm recovering from having to go over all the things that made me 'Me'.  It's one thing to know what my history is, it's quite another to try and explain it to someone new.  It's confronting, upsetting, and well, depressing. Going over everything from the beginning, has got me in a funk, because after all the stuff, all the struggle, all the crap I've survived, I have nothing to show for it.  The only joyful thing I had, was my children, and they're lost to me.  I thought a psychologist was supposed to help you move forward?  I feel like I've taken a massive step backward.  The stuff I had worked on finding ways to think around , are back in the forefront of my mind, and ...

It's Easter Monday. A four day weekend where depending on your beliefs; or lack of them, regardless of your proximity to the spring equinox; or the autumn, the western world celebrates renewal, fertility, and new beginnings.  Be it the Christian story of the Resurrection, the pagan celebration of spring, or the modern gluttony of chocolate; rebirth, spring, flowers, rabbits, eggs - symbols of joyous new life are everywhere.  Oh the irony. All around me people are galloping on with their lives, eating chocolate, going to church, hunting for eggs, as though they have an unlimited supply of charge-life.  Maybe they do.  Maybe it's only me that has a faulty 'battery'. What IS my battery?  Some ethereal font of energy that I lost my connection to?   Possible, but until it's a measurable thing I'm going to struggle to believe it.   An internal chemical reaction I can't ignite anymore?  Isn't that what the medication is supposed to be balancing...