Statements.
Here are things I can say aloud after a trip through Texas backwoods:
I don't like myself very much.
Most of the time, my logical brain knows the right thing to do but then my emotional brain takes over and I do everything my brain says I probably shouldn't.
I live with constant anxiety that people can tell I don't like myself, and are unable to like me because of it.
Sometimes I feel stupid for taking care of my dad and destroying my ability to cope with anything.
I resent everyone who appears to be recovering faster than I am.
I don't like most of my old friends because their lives seem easier.
I feel lonely constantly.
My anxiety keeps me from doing anything with my spare time. I spend most of it in bed, staring at my ceiling.
I'm afraid it won't get better.
I miss former iterations of myself so much, it's like being homesick.
I don't like myself very much.
Most of the time, my logical brain knows the right thing to do but then my emotional brain takes over and I do everything my brain says I probably shouldn't.
I live with constant anxiety that people can tell I don't like myself, and are unable to like me because of it.
Sometimes I feel stupid for taking care of my dad and destroying my ability to cope with anything.
I resent everyone who appears to be recovering faster than I am.
I don't like most of my old friends because their lives seem easier.
I feel lonely constantly.
My anxiety keeps me from doing anything with my spare time. I spend most of it in bed, staring at my ceiling.
I'm afraid it won't get better.
I miss former iterations of myself so much, it's like being homesick.