When the journey sucks

Personal growth is a journey. It’s painful.

Be patient. Be gentle. Be kind to yourself. Find self-compassion. 

Just breathe.

I keep hearing these things, over and over again. I desperately want them to be enough.

I admit, I am not the world’s most patient person. Never have been. However, since I’ve been doing this therapy thing, consistently, for 8ish months, I would say that I have been working on the patience thing. Believing that there is another side, somewhere, on the other side of this swamp I am stuck in.

Self-compassion–another daily battle. Can I just admit, for one second, that self-compassion–gentleness, kindness, etc.–is really a hard concept when I’ve spent my whole life striving to be good enough for other people, and pretty much always coming up short? But…I. am. trying.

I breathe. Deeply. Slowly. Too fast, sometimes. I tap my fingers and wiggle my toes, willing my mind just to realize that the present is an okay place to be.

But my brain does it’s own thing. It buzzes, loudly. It fixates. Ruminates. Wanders.

Today, I feel low. I feel defeated by this journey–this battle–that seems never-freaking-ending. I am trying all of these things–all of my resources, all of my best attempts at self-compassion, and gentleness, and breathing. But, I am still struggling–despite all of my efforts.

So, I blame myself. I must not be trying hard enough. I must be mentally weak–why else do I struggle so much with all of my resources? They are hard, so I don’t try hard enough to conquer them. I think, to myself, that I lack the strength to ever be okay on my own.

I wonder if it isn’t time to finally succumb to an anti-depressant–yet the thought triggers a whole other round of panic in my stomach. Last time I tried, I had a reaction and spent the better part of a week in a horrible cycle of panic–stuck on my couch and the bathroom floor. I wonder how I can possibly conquer the fear, the panic, the horrible mind game that comes with anxiety, when I swallow another pill. I can’t trust my own body–is it real? Or is it just my brain making it feel real?

I wanted so badly to just get through this on my own.

This journey…it kinda sucks. I really want to get to this magical other side and feel better. Finally.

I don’t want to seem ungrateful. I am grateful for everyone who encourages me to just keep going. These statements just remind me how much I am failing–if I could just be more self compassionate, gentle, patient, then I probably would not be where I am.

But, I’m here. Inspite of myself. Because of myself?

I want to find patience. I want to know what it is like to be gentle, without thinking about it. I want self-compassion so much. I am trying. 

I just can’t seem to get there.

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