I recently got over the first hurtle of trusting my T. Took awhile but it happened. Now I'm thinking maybe I will get better. Maybe now my life will be relatively free of the BS I've been going through for 50 years.

But as I'm thinking this I'm also feeling a bit apprehensive. I know I won't be cured, but hopefully my life will be functioning. I feel that if I get better, I'm going to lose a part of myself or won't even exist. If I'm not me with a mental illness, who am I? Without the drama, will life be too boring? It's difficult to explain the feeling, but it feels like fear, fear of getting better.

Does anyone recognize this?