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I feel miserable. In one place I lived I had a closet and when I needed time out I'd crawl into that closet and huddle up in there for 10 minutes or so. That was when the kids were very young - oh, I never hid unless David was there, too, to watch the kids. They'd be playing with him or watching TV. No one ever found me in that closet; they just figured I went for a walk or was in the yard. I'm come out of the closet feeling grounded and much less tired.
I wish I had that closet to crawl into right now. I just feel so, so sad. I feel so sad that I don't even feel the energy to feel self-destructive.
It's absolutely ridiculous to feel this way because my therapist can't accept her own limitations. And because whoever her supervisor is doesn't say, Hmmm...maybe our patients are being hurt by this situation.
This is like a relationship in which I keep returning to my abuser. It's effing sick anymore. I just want to disappear off the earth.
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