I think the battle in our heads is the whole war once the precipitating trauma is over. A statement that should be obvious, but I only came to that realization in the past week or so. It's weird situation, at times it feels like the whole word has it in for me, it borders on or has the flavor of paranoia. And, one event can start the cascade of self-recrimination, self-doubt, and the crash in self-esteem. Yet, the external world doesn't have a clue, unless I choose to share it. I go through my days being completely functional, acting completely "normal", whatever that is, and no one knows how bad I feel inside on some days.

I honestly do not understand why I do it to myself. It is completely illogical. Everything in my life outwardly says "successful" -career, nice home in a nice town, material things I want or need, no history of anything wild or out of control. Yet I equate myself in my mind to the worst of the worst, I literally told my therapist I was worse than some back alley rapist and should be taken out to a field somewhere and shot for the good of humanity. I believe that type of absolute crap. Yet, I do good things and hardly accept it myself, and God forbid if someone else praises me, I always cut them off with comments about how undeserving I really am. I know I'm not a bad guy, even in the worst of my despair the only person I was ever dangerous to was myself. I actually really like people, I would lie much more social interaction, more friends, I'm actually pretty lonely. I try and do good things, for example, I did a 100 kilometer bike ride for charity this past summer and raised over $600 in pledges. I think that sort of thing should make me feel I'm better than said rapist, but even when it does the effect wears off quickly, and I'm back to doom and gloom.

Honestly, the past 3 days, I have thought about all of the negatives much less. I think it is either the Prozac, although only after 5-7 days would it do much? Or more likely, the placebo effect. Whichever, I don't care, it is a relief.