I am finally realizing how unwell I'm becoming. I go through periods of that realization, and then periods of denial, the latter of which I'm prone to. I just wrote a somewhat long email to my old psychiatrist in the US. It was in the guise of one of the "updates" he told me to send. I had not sent him one for a while, because 1) I thought it best to try to distance myself from him, 2) the intermittent denial of struggle, 3) my desire to be "tough", and 4) that perhaps he wants me to break away. But truth is, I'm absolutely experiencing a bit of what Mountaindewed seems to feel for his old therapist. Also because I'm sad that no one seems to know me well enough here, except Hubby. And I don't want to worry him too much. He's struggling, too. Only my old psychiatrist truly knows me almost as well as him. Even my siblings don't know me as well. Plus, some times you just need a secondary person to talk freely with. No fear of judgement or fear that you will hurt them.

It's not easy for me to open up fully with people. I tend to put a glass wall between myself and others. It's a protective mechanism that slowly developed in my teenage years, and has persisted. Yes, I hurt, too. Even if I generally seem well-put-together, at times. I suppose it's like how sick birds will not show illness as a protective mechanism to avoid being killed and eaten by predators. But the danger is keeping up that front too long...until it's too late.