I've been making my way through the first book in this set http://phoenixrisingpublications.ca/item.php?itemId=207 , and while I was feeling some hope at first, the further in I get the more doubt starts to overtake me. When I got to the part about imposing emotional structure, delaying self-gratification, and learning all those related "grown up" emotional skills, something in me panicked and rebelled like crazy.

It sounds like agonizing work, and for what? "Living" rather than surviving? What's the value in that? Why can't I stay like this? I'm fine. If I take my anxiety meds, and avoid triggers, and dissociate, it's fine and I'm relatively content if I don't look at the dark places. It's enough.

It's taken me a long time to become capable of repressing it well enough that it no longer bleeds through regularly. It's far away, and I exist separately from it now. I don't have outbursts. I rarely rage at people anymore. If something triggers me I suck it all inside and react quietly so that people don't notice. I can't risk ruining this and destabilizing and becoming like I used to be - constantly on edge and prone to hair-trigger rages and meltdowns and panic attacks.

The entire thing feels like a big catch-22. In order to recover, you have to break again. In order to find your authentic identity, you have to destroy what you've built to survive. All while still somehow living the daily life you have.

I'm trying to remember this - "Each time you come to the pain of regret let it be a reminder of all that you are working to change and why." - since terrible, devastating regret is what brought me to the point of looking at myself. And becoming a better person feels like the only thing that will balance the scales against the damage I've done.