The doctor made me cry again. I can't really blame him, though; I've felt it coming all day...and I can tell there's more in store. It turns out I'm shaming myself into increased isolation (which I'm then using to fuel the shame, ugh) to explain the absence of so many people I love. Nothing new there, which is of course, a problem. Yes, it hurts a lot to go so long without word from Mandy or Stacy or Jenna. Somehow even the word I do get - like the e-mail from Brea so wonderful to see - hurts right now. I don't think I can separate the pain of attachment from the joy of it, which leaves everything muddled and mixed together. I'm a lovable, lonely, shamed, optimistic, social hermit, and it just has to be that way for now.
The doctor said that my feelings about myself do not correctly gauge the way other people feel about me. The fact that I feel less than valuable at the moment does not mean my presence isn't valuable to other people. The fact that I'm in pain doesn't mean I add pain to others' lives by being in them; hence, I do not have to stay confined to my own head. I can venture out and love. I'm "lovable," "desirable," and "valuable," even when I feel like dust on dirt. He said. He said it at least three times, and one time he was holding my hand in one palm, and gently consoling my back with the other. I was wincing and trying not to look at him. But it didn't go unnoticed. More-than-the-handshake is rare and always grabs my attention. My heart jumps up and goes, "Ooh! Is this a hug? Do we get to hug somebody now?"
I came 'home' and wrote Jenna. And Brea. And I'm not sure how the rest of those tears are going to get out of me, but I'm aware they need to. And I feel all filled with love, even though that's by no means painless. I feel more myself that way.
~me