Tired

Shame, shame, shame.

It permeates me. The past few days have been those kinds of days where I just wished I didn't exist.

I'm tired.

I'm lost.

I am ashamed.

It's very difficult to accept "I love you" from anyone, when there's not one single redeeming quality you can see about yourself.

My last session was beyond humiliating. So much so, that I almost didn't go today, which Michelle noticed.

"I'm glad you came today," she said, knowing a million parts of me were pulling me away, telling me to run.

Sue William Silverman wrote a number of books and is also a friend of mine on facebook. She's a very brave woman - she put things in her memoir about being molested and abused by her affluent father, and followed it with a sequel about sexual addiction and finally "Fearless Confessions" - a book about how to write about these things. Quite the appropriate title, I think.

How horrible it is, to tell. How frightening. Not just the details and grit, but what's going on inside you. The reality of your every-day breaths. Every thought that stabs you with how indecent you are, unworthy you are, useless you are. It's all this fucking game you play, to make everyone happy...to make everyone love you...even if you don't believe they do, you can at least see what it's like.

I believe Bill... but that's a double-edged sword.

I believe that he loves me, but I don't feel I deserve it. That hurts. I want it, but I am so afraid of it.

Life just sucks these past few days.

I am tired.