I write letters to my T every night. She used to read them all, but now she doesn't always have the time.

I was writing to her last night telling her how sorry I am for contacting her via email to ask a question. I was thinking she must be mad at me because she hadn't responded. In this letter, I started defending myself to her. I was telling her if only she knew all the times I wanted to contact her but didn't, maybe then she'd be proud. If she knew all of the cuts I wanted to make but didn't, maybe then she'd be proud. If she knew all of the breaths I took even though I didn't want to live, maybe then she'd be proud of me.

And then it hit me. I was talking to myself. I was trying to convince myself that I deserved to be proud of myself. My T was literally not involved in that conversation. She did nothing to make me believe she was upset or to say she thought I wasn't doing a good job. I was saying that. I was the one who wasn't giving myself enough credit and discrediting all of the good things I did just because I might have reached out when I shouldn't have.

So journaling is hard, but it has its perks. I address all of my entries to my T even if I know she can't possibly read it all. Sometimes I'll tab the important stuff and have her read excerpts.