Raw

I had a tough day or rather I have had a typical day where I feel I am about to blow. If you are an aspie, I know you can relate. Growing up my family used to claim I was a bomb about to blow at any given time. Truth is my parents and my siblings could not relate and hence judged instead of trying to understand. I didn't blow at of nowhere, I had had enough. I used to feel like it was so unfair, as if they couldn't get it, I had done my best to act as they all expected me to and as soon as I fell to please them, I would be shamed hence I would lose it, as I felt it was unfair. I simply did not understand how they could reproach me, I had obviously made a mistake. On the scheme of things, to me it felt it was nothing in comparison to all I had done by controlling myself. Anyhow, I wish to share my own triggers. Sensory: sometime it is too much, like being in a restaurant, I can't help it, I hear 3-4 conversations around me, plus the noise in the kitchen, so yes, it is hard for me to concentrate on our conversation, in which I am supposed to contribute (though let me guess, many would say, we don't contribute but monopolize). Though if you asked my two closed acquaintances, with whom at go to breakfast on a somehow regular basis (my need for a routine), they would say I appear distracted as on the opposite, I won't answer and seem in a haze. Well, I feel overwhelmed, the noise is too much for me to concentrate and I swear I am not intentionally ignoring them.
I hate being touched or even can't stand the feel of some fabrics on my skin and I especially hate being touched on my face. Can't explain it. Hence, if someone even accidentally brush my shoulder, I feel off balance, I have an immediate need to be brushed against my opposite shoulder (all about balance, equilibrium). Now, my face is a far different matter, can't explain it better than simply say it feels as if there is a remnant trace from the other's touch (Gross yuck). Yep, you guess it, I wear same clothes since I can afford my own clothes. If find a piece of clothing that feels right, I must buy several (as I don't know when I may find another, plus I like to have another one for peace of mind, probably my need to be prepared or rather feel as I am as I am often not but rather all over).
Jokes are another matter, I don't get most jokes. So what? First, I find most jokes really stupid hence it almost seems to me now that I think further about it, as if joke teller think I am (audience) stupid enough to waste my intellect on it. Seriously?! Most jokes don't make any sense and are not any logical. Second, in my opinion, jokes are hypocritical, they appear to deflate something that is really mattering. So why not say the truth?
Polite talk makes no sense to me so why do I have to be subjected and obligated to reply by same? Instance, how was your weekend? none of your business (unless I volunteer the information, I find it intrusive and really what is it to you). If I don't ask, it is because I really don't care, it is your business. If I care, I will inquire as I hope to hear you had a great time. Otherwise, I assume you would discuss it.
Today was one of these days, that seems long and overwhelming. People who care, expressed that I was making them feel uncomfortable due to my high anxiety. I felt on edge and off all day and I am committed to change for the better, I elected to face my fears and finally determined at should do something to ground me. I went to yoga, there I was reminded of the power of mantras. I tried to let go of my racing thoughts and anxiety, as I tried to concentrate on just completing this one class, one position at a time while telling myself over and over "I am okay" and "I will be okay". It is a start and I am convinced that being aware of our problems, whether feeling irritated and or overwhelmed is the first step though the recovery step is addressing it by electing to redirect our emotions. I felt so overwhelmed, as if I would lose it real bad so by doing yoga to redirect my body and mind, forced me to address how I felt out of my skin. Is it easy to redirect our thoughts or stop overthinking, nope though trying by actually doing something different is better than saying you will do it soon. Did I feel like going to yoga? Nope, but I forced myself to go and I had the pleasure to experience the power of redirecting my emotions.

I can't control always how I feel, I can however elect to refrain from letting my emotions ravage me. I acknowledged I felt powerless through my inability to control my emotions so by not giving up and instead "forcing" myself to do a yoga class, I redirected my mind. My goal was for an hour to get out of my head. Did I succeed? Not entirely, though I was able to concentrate enough on doing the positions while repeating this powerful and positive mantra: "I am okay" to get out of my overthinking and out of control mind for an hour.

PS: it is now passed 10:30 pm and I just realized that I ate absolutely nothing all day. I just had a cup of tea this morning and sipped on another cup through afternoon. Am I hungry? I am not sure. I am sharing this so you know it is not an eating disorder, we simply forget. I also tend to get so overwhelmed that I don't even drink water all day. Bad? Yep, I know it though I can't help, I get so overwhelmed that I am not even in touch with my needs for hydration or nourishment. I did the same two days ago though I forced myself to eat 4 eggs and brie cheese omelette after 9pm as I realized I had eaten nothing.

Insomnia

Since little, I can recall my lack of sleep and struggle to fall asleep. My father gifted me with a clip lamp, I would stay up - at times all night, recall my father coming in to wake me and my sister for school, while I would panic as I realized I hadn't slept as instead had stayed up all night reading - then as I entered high school, I tried various medications though to no avail. I felt exhausted though could not shut my brain off. It would be going over the details of the day, I would analyze over and over my behavior and try to make sense of others' responses to my own. How do I know? My doctor at the time suggested when could not sleep though exhausted that I write down whatever was on my mind. At times, as I had stayed up 2 nights in a row (tended to be my pattern then crashed next night for a few hours), I would be so exhausted though it seemed as if my brain would not literally turn off. So I'd write as suggested, I was surprised in morning to read over my notes. Not only was my writing all over as if to illustrate how zombie like I felt, what I wrote was "disturbing" in my view. I had obsessed over my whole day, describing my anxieties of being rejected by others as I felt so inadequate and struggled to interact properly then I would assess their response and try to make sense of it. It did not make sense that my brain was going over my whole day, I would wonder why was I so obsessive. I attempted to convince myself that it made no sense except the lack of sleep made me delirious to the point of being obsessive. Truth is it would freak me out as I wondered what was wrong with me. I struggled each day at understanding others, while I also attempted to act somewhat how I suspected they expected me to. Then I had to face my fears all over again, it seems to be so unfair. A vicious cycle. Trying to demonstrate how frustrated I felt with my inability to fall asleep even though I felt exhausted, I would call my dad's office every hour of the night and leave a voicemail where I would relate my frustrating and painful ordeal. My father kept saying that he had suffered from insomnia too at times, I clung to this idea as a means to make sense: perhaps it was genetic, simply out of my control.
As I grew more accustomed to my sleepless nights and felt helpless staying up and unable to find sleep: I found two ways of passing time. I either would read (often finishing book and realizing I still wasn't remotely sleepy), or I would go on night adventures around town. I would walk endlessly it seems through the streets in the dark (which seems to be my friend, nobody could see me and judge me). Many nights, I walked along the quais along the Seine (my favorite spot l' ile de la cité) and or would walk from the left bank to Montmartre, where it seems there was nocturnal life. I feel I romanticized my insomnia: I used to tell myself I would stay up at night as it was safe for me to live. Everyone surrounding me seem to be deep asleep, hence no longer a threat to me - they could not judge me - I was free from their gaze. I felt safe in the darkness. On weekends, I would stay in bed from mid morning to mid afternoon, as to avoid the day light and especially having to interact with people.
Today, I am 32 years old and my insomnia has still persisted, I simply adjusted to it by convincing myself that people that sleep less than the 8 hours so glamorized by so called health studies, may live longer and not experience negative side effects from the lack of sleep. However, I must say I am so frustrated that I feel as if I come alive as soon as dark outside. It feels so wrong, I mean I comprehend that night time is commonly associated with sleep though I can't seem to fall asleep until early in the morning. I don't take naps as I fear it would only make my sleep pattern worse.
One advantage though of staying up late at night, is I call my relatives abroad in France as 7 hours ahead there. I often call as my father is at work and he seems always surprised to hear that it is 1, 2 or 3 am here though he does not seem surprised to hear I am not sleeping nor that I still haven't fallen asleep. He tends to tell me: "try to get some sleep" which honestly infuriates me as I am thinking to myself, what do you think I have been trying to do for the last few hours. Plus, doesn't he know by now that I call him as it is like a pattern from my teenage years when I would call his office to leave a voicemail to share my exhaustion and my inability to fall asleep. I comprehend, he probably thinks he is showing support through his words, though I can't help but find these words useless and rather frustrating. Also, I comprehend that my active behavior such as making a call, may suggest I am not trying to induce sleep though I can assure you after turning around in bed for 3 hours and obsessing over the time of possible and so desired of sleep left, which seems now so diminished is too much. So I get up, read, do sudoku, journal especially if meditation and songs fell to soothe me.

This is just a theory, which I cannot support scientifically though I wonder at times if perhaps, my brain is wired also differently as to interpret darkness. I mean, I am sensitive to light, my eyes hurt though I grew accustomed to it since a child. Is it that my brain is saying, it is dark now and it is now the proper time for you to be active: you are safe of others, make the most of it.

In the past year, I tried various  sleeping aids with the assistance of my psychiatrist, I must admit one seem to work though I fear becoming addicted so only seldom used it. "Xanax" appears to put me to sleep within 20 min though it also keeps me out for 10 hours if not more. Almost, as if my body is saying it is finally getting the rest it has been craving and will ensure I catch up. Well, it throws my whole routine off. Plus, I fear I will only become more addicted to it as a sleeping aid. I really don't want to be dependent on a drug to get some snooze time. Hence, my trial and error at other means to help me fall asleep in the past few weeks. I will share my findings in another post.

In other words, it seems that for now "insomnia" is part of my life. I chose to share my experience with it, as in my attempts to find a cure for it, I came to understand it is a common problem many of us "Aspies" struggle with since childhood, and I want others like I to know that they are not alone.

Anxiety

As a child, I was constantly asked to drop my shoulders and to smile. As a young adult, I was told by many I was anxious and that my anxiety was palpable. Truth be said, I had no idea what they were referring to. I didn't understand, I wasn't anxious. I could be watching TV with family or friends and was often told: "try to relax", "you are so tense"... In my mind, I didn't know what they were talking about. I was persuaded that I was not anxious, I was relaxed, I was watching TV, isn't that what being relaxed is? I was certain I was not anxious as I felt fine.

Until last spring, I had no idea what anxiety was, I lived it and had absolutely no idea that I was. My psychiatrist gained my trust and I agreed to take some medication. While I had to go on very low dose as too sensitive to medication, after a few weeks, I felt as if I didn't respond the way I normally would about things. I felt as if things didn't affect me as much. Then I had to cease the medication as side effects came to be too much, however, I felt my "anxiety" again though now I knew that this "feeling" was indeed "anxiety". As I felt I was in better control of my emotions under the effect of the medication, felt I was no longer or at least less controlled by my own emotions, I elected to return on the medication though at a lower dose. Unfortunately, the side effects worsen ultimately leading to internal bleeding. I am officially off since early fall and while I am no longer under any medication, I know one thing: "anxiety" is what I lived with my whole life. I now understand that I don't have to live with it everyday. The medication temporarily took it away and made me aware that I could live differently. 

I worked on understanding what were my stressors as I still can't control my emotions though can feel myself about to explode. If I feel something to be too much, I elect to tell others surrounding me how I feel and as such excuse myself as to avoid reacting to my emotions. This may sound like it is easy though I can assure it is NOT. Someone came up with the idea that a keyword could be a way for me to let them know that it is becoming too much. Since, I feel I am about to snap, I say I feel "snappy". 

This past month, I decided to aim to live less affected by anxiety. I am hoping to accomplish it by trials and errors. I recently started doing yoga and meditation as means to control my anxiety and understanding better myself as I learn to accept myself as I am. 

Relationships

Many think I am incapable of forming genuine relationship with others. Though, I know that they are incorrect. I struggle maintaining relationships including "friendships" as I find people to be too unpredictable. Truth is I respect and trust animals more than humans because it seems to me that humans more so than being unpredictable are also unreliable. I strongly feel I can understand animals better as their behaviors are intrinsic, therefore "honest". People appear to hide their "true" motive, they may be sad and or angry but they can pretend otherwise. This is so confusing as I don't see why one has to constantly fake it as to satisfy their own or others' ego. I am often told that I am too blunt. Am I really? Or am I saying out loud what others think though are instructed to shush as improper to comment upon. For instance; I strongly dislike when others inquire "how I am doing". For one thing, most people who say it, say it nonchalantly and only for good etiquette. Does the cashier really care about what is going on with me? Does the waiter care to hear all about my life's "tragedies"? Perhaps, I don't feel well, or I am dealing with overwhelming grief over the loss of a loved one (most likely a pet)... or do they care to hear how I am feeling confused since I woke up in the morning and or feel frustrated how others in the line are being so obnoxious or that the noise in the restaurant or store is literally annoying me to the point I wish I could be "deaf" for a few moment as to think straight? Hence my point, it is so hypocritical to ask such "intrusive" question. I don't ask others how they are doing as truly I don't care, I comprehend they have their own issues and if they wanted to volunteer any of it, they would. Also, let clarify that I tend to think that despite my personal and selfish though real internal and emotional struggle, I feel prompted to respond "Of course, I am fine". I mean aren't we fine? We are spoiled.... I think to myself, I am not handicapped, I am not losing a child to an incurable illness, nor am I being witness to atrocities around me. Hence, even if for an instant I felt I was dealing with too much such as a loss of a loved one, isn't it the cycle of life and what would you respond to such if we are simply strangers? As even if any one cares enough to follow up with you in the next few days...

The people that got to know me and accept me, know now better than to ask me questions about my personal life. I hate it. First, I find it intrusive and second unless I discuss it and tell you all about it in a monologue, I don't want to discuss it as I wish to escape my own thoughts.

Finally, let's be real. Why ask each other questions to which you do not want to hear the answer? Hence, I tend to warn others that I am blunt and while it seems refreshing as most comment, it can hurt, though I am only showing them respect by answering them bluntly. For instance, I hate when some ask "do you think I am fat?", first if you ask, it is probably because it is on your mind and second, you hope that I will assure you otherwise as to reassure you. Though, would I be doing you justice and demonstrate you respect by lying to you. So if you can't accept the answer I may provide you, please do not ask me such questions.

Finally,  I acknowledge that I struggle to maintain relationships with others though I also no longer care to try. My past experiences have taught me that many are judgmental and more so condemning and I no longer care to try to be loved by all. The people that will accept me as I am, are the ones I care to have around. Though let's clarify, I need my space and when very excited or anxious, I tend to be too much for many. Hence, I learned to avoid most social interactions as I find myself disappointed. The few that earned my trust, know that I care about them when I mean them no respect by saying I love them as much I think of them as my pets. I think very highly of my pets and in my words, this is truly the best compliment I can give them: I trust them and care unconditionally for them.

Guilt

I can't sleep as most nights, my mind is racing. Anyhow, I thought I'd write about something troubling me. In the past few months, I came to understand that for family members and closed ones like a spouse, it can be difficult to live with an "Aspie". By the way I dislike calling myself such as I don't believe it has to define me. It is already difficult to feel different than to label myself is even more punitive. Since being officially diagnosed and accepting the diagnosis, I can't help but feel guilt as whether I should reach out to the people I may have wronged by my behavior in the past. I was told by my ex-boyfriend that I never let him in. Well, I wonder if he would understand better now that I never "intended" to come across as such. I admit I already apologized to my parents as I comprehend it was not easy for them either. They didn't know how to interact with me. I shared with my dad how I felt (I felt I loved my pets more than them), I however reminded him how I appreciated every thing he did with us, whether him taking us to the museum or the zoo... While he commented how he was impressed by my memory, he seems to understand that I care though I am not good at demonstrating it. Though I must say, it is eating me to know that others may think I don't care about them, I can't say I don't, I do though I just don't feel the way I believe most people would feel. I don't want my parents or my family to think I don't care about them, I do, I simply don't connect with them. Same with my spouse. I feel guilt just thinking that my spouse does not feel loved by me, and that my parents wondered what was wrong with their child. It seems not fair, I wish I could connect with them and assure them that I care about them, I simply don't know if they get it as I don't understand myself how I feel and how they feel. It is so frustrating.

What it is like?

I suppose parents and others who wish to understand what it must be like for us, wonder or have questions. Truth is books can describe it though unless you live it, I don't believe you can truly relate. Little, I remember my dad dropping my sister and myself in the morning at school (elementary school). Once he would leave, I felt alone and out of place. I used to sit on the bench and observe the other kids as I was so confused how they interacted. Other times, I would day dream, probably an escape. I would wonder what was life for the adults. At each recess, I would sit on the bench and stay by myself as I observed from afar my peers. I couldn't understand how they interacted and behaved. I felt at odd. Once I left elementary school, the world of books came to my rescue. Each recess, I would go straight to the library where the librarian always had suggestions for me. I would return each day the book I had finished during the previous night (I had insomnia and drove my sister insane as I had a small light (a clip on) on all night so I could read, she eventually got me kicked out of our bedroom at night and I had to go into the dining room to read). My point is I can't quite describe why I felt at odd with my peers, I always felt inadequate. I avoided relationships as I learned I sucked at them. Kids are extremely mean if you show an ounce of difference. I didn't laugh at jokes, my peers would call me a freak for it... I was better off with my true friends: characters in my books, we would live adventures together and escape this cruel reality. To this day, my books are extremely important to me, they have to be in my bedroom, they are most precious friends. When I moved from Paris to the United States, I brought a suitcase full of books and each return from France, I brought more. I still have my most beloved kids' books: Babar...
While I read Jean Auel's The clan of the cave bear around 10 then discovered Proust and Tolstoi around 13, I still enjoy to this day children stories. Perhaps, because many appears to have a moral where good deed triumphs (strong sense of justice).
Today, as I met with my psychiatrist, we discussed another trait of mine and others like myself: my love for animals. I admitted to her that indeed I love animals more than people though I also, at the risk of sounding insane, feel like I understand them better than people. Animals appear to come to me, I feel safe around them. I have 2 dogs and 2 cats (all rescued). I feel they found me and each day I am grateful for having them be a part of my life.
In my opinion, people are too difficult to understand and very unreliable. I can't control them while animals are "blunt", they are genuine. They either let you in or don't trust you. Now, not to freak anyone with the following though, it is a fact: I have no problem being licked by animals and dislike any physical touch or contact with humans including my family members (even spouse). I absolutely "HATE" being touched especially on my face (feel grossed to me), then as I was in therapy and my face in the neck of my dogs, I realized how strange it is. I don't have a problem being licked by animals (where let's be honest, their tongues have been most places I don't even want to think about) though I find and really "FEEL" grossed out by a simple kiss on the cheek or even a soft stroke (caress) from any human, I feel suddenly the urge to clean up. I am fully aware of this statement sounding contradictory though I can't explain it. It is the strangest thing to me too. And even, I started recently to feel guilty as I truly don't mean to insult my family and my spouse by refusing to be touched by them, while I can be licked all over the face by dogs and even licked on the hand by cats with their sand paper like tongue (and never feel the need to wash neither my face or hands). I absolutely hate shaking hands with people, "FEEL" the need to wash my hands afterward. I don't get it either.
I hope you can forgive our ways and just learn to accept that we certainly don't ever mean to offend you if you clinched at the idea of being touched. We truly can't control how it makes us feel. So, don't ever take it personally.

I am not cold

I was inspired to write this post, as it occurs to me that my own struggle to form a "relationship" and really a connection between myself and my parents, is a struggle many like myself experience. I wish to share how I felt growing up and how I continue to feel toward my parents. On one hand, I must say I never felt connected to neither of my parents and to be fair this extends to my siblings as well. It does not mean I don't care nor love them, I simply don't feel close to them. As a child, I knew they were my parents, which meant we were a family though emotionally I never felt I was part of the family. I used to think secretly for many years, I had been adopted. I felt so different from them, as I write this, I come to realize that it was probably due to my condition: I struggle to form relationship with people. When I was 15 years old, my father told us (the family) at dinner that he had bad news. I guessed right, our family dog had passed. My parents got him when I was a baby. Growing up, he was my best buddy. Due to a skin condition, a dear friend of my dad who own lands in the country offered to give him a better suited home than living in an apartment in Paris. He could run free... be happy. I remember when we would visit, me and my dad would go to the grocery store and got marrow bones in the meat section to bring him as a treat. I missed him so bad. I learned to swim like a dog because of him. I used to hug him, I loved him. Anyhow, that evening as my dad confirmed my worst fear: death had strikes unjustly again. I began to cry then I became angry as neither my sister, nor mom and nor dad seem affected by it. I stormed down to my bedroom and slammed the door. I called them monsters: they were cold, why weren't they sad for the death of our awesome dog? I felt more connected to my dog than my own family. To this day, I feel more love for my dogs and my cat (pets and animal in general) than for my family including my husband, I can't explain it nor help it, it is how I feel. I always try though to find an explanation for things. I ponder if indeed it is because they never judged me, while people disappoint me as they often are quick to judge me. Though I can say one thing, I know one thing with certainty, the love I feel for my animals is definitely "unconditional" while the love I struggle to feel for my family is more like a duty. They are my family hence I know I must love them though as I don't feel understood by them, I struggle to express it. I want to clarify one thing: I do love them all, I simply don't feel connected. Like I told my dad, it is a fact, I know it sounds wrong though I can't help it, it's how I feel: I love my pets more than them. It does not mean I don't love my parents, I just don't know how to better explain it than it's how I feel. The way I tell in my opinion my dad how I feel is by sharing with him memories of us doing things that mattered to me. For instance, I told him recently thank you for all the trips at the museum and zoo when little, I loved these. I also hope he knows that the trip to the grocery store to get my dog a bone felt like a special trip between him and I. When my dad recently visited here, I really appreciated when he joined me and my dogs for a walk, or when he let my dogs climb on his legs.... I felt closer to him then as if part of my world had been shared making me feel like we connected.

When I shared with my dad how I felt: "I love my dogs more than him", I expressed that I knew according to many it sounds wrong though I can't lie, it is how I feel. I mean I am stuck with my parents, I didn't choose them. They are my parents, it is a fact, I can't just exchange them. My dogs however came in my life, it happened and I wasn't expected to love them as I am to love my family even if I don't truly like their personality (if some of them were not my family, I would not ever be in contact nor friend with them). The love and relationship I formed with each of my dogs was genuine, it was a true connection. The feelings grew on me, I care very much about them. I do feel they are a big part of me. They love me and accept me as I am. This is unconditional love.

I comprehend that I am not good at making people feel like I let them in hence I can be seen as cold though I don't mean it. I struggle to communicate with people and I grow increasingly frustrated at times, as since a kid, all I ever wanted and continue to want is to feel understood instead of misunderstood. What I am trying to say is if you are a parent, please don't think that your child (if like I and others out there) does not care. We care, we just communicate it differently.

Shame and guilt

About 2 weeks ago, I started to go to therapy as per the suggestion of my psychiatrist. Though, this time I was instructed to find a therapist specialized with Asperger's. I confess I was afraid as it is still uneasy to face my reality. I feared I would be judged or worse "locked up" if I shared my truth. My reaction on my first session took me by surprise. I honestly thought as much as I wanted help, I would be better off pretending I was okay. Instead, as the therapist probe, I caught myself "crying" and admitting my ugly truth: I hate myself. I confess that I felt like a fraud, I had no idea who I was. I was exhausted of putting on a mask each day. I was not okay, I felt so frustrated with how others so quickly judged and condemned me when I was unable to hide my true self. I felt I was shamed for my odd behavior. I also shared my disappointment in my family for not being supportive as each member including my spouse looked down upon my condition: they commented I had a mental illness hence anytime my behavior seems inadequate, it was not my fault, I had a mental illness. It hurt, I disagreed with them, I was perhaps unaware and not in control always of my behavior though I didn't view nor consider myself as "handicapped mentally". I simply struggled to understand how to interact with others and how to control my own emotions though I had feelings and I knew I didn't do any of these so called "inappropriate", "odd" behaviors intentionally. In other words, I shared that part of my problem was I felt even more alone, I had no support from my "family". I already didn't feel connected to them, now I felt even more alienated. While the therapist understood and reassured me it was okay for me to want different things than most, I was overwhelmed. The truth hit me hard, I had said it: I hated myself and yes indeed I was depressed. I was even more surprised as I had not expected this simple question: "do you love yourself?"
I felt not only shame as I shared my truth, I felt guilt. After all, I had no right to complain. I wasn't living in a third world country struggling. I was lucky and really wasn't I ungrateful and narcissistic to complain about my life. The therapist's response to my concerns of being selfish if complained about not being happy, was encouraging: "so what if being happy to you means living by yourself with lots of dogs". He didn't say that I was selfish for wanting different things. I shared how since a little girl, I fantasized about living on an island with lots of books and pets but no humans as it seems to be my vision of happiness. I also shared how I knew that this view seemed to clash with society, wasn't it wrong for me to want to be alone. How could I be normal if admitted that I didn't like people and that I loved and felt more connected to my pets and animals. Wasn't it wrong? What was wrong with me? Again, I was talking about myself and wasn't I being selfish? NO, according to the therapist, other individuals like I felt the exact same way and were we not entitled to be happy too.

I can't tell you that therapy will fix me or fix anyone like I though being able to share my own truth without being judged was freeing. This first session helped me accept two things. I had to face my truth, which seems dark though I couldn't evade it any longer: I was unhappy with myself. Second, it was okay to want different things and to feel so different: I needed to accept myself.

I won't pretend that I am completely okay with these truths. I struggle with them. On one hand, I accept that I am exhausted of pretending I am okay as I constantly fake my way in life. I hide at best (I think I do), who I am as I learned early on that being myself is "odd", "weird" and "strange" hence "not acceptable" though now I must face my truth: I can't do it any longer as it took its toll on me: I feel like a fraud. I hate myself when what I need to do is learn to accept who I am. On the other hand, accepting who I am means I must accept that I am different. Am I okay with this? Not really. I always felt different though I longed to fit and now I must accept I indeed do not fit. It's difficult as while it may seem to free me as I know I am not crazy, I am indeed different, I also am struggling to know I will always feel this way: I will always feel different and not be able to connect and understand others. I may learn to decipher and accept that others don't understand me like I struggle to understand my peers but I will never truly be able to feel like others do and or be able to relate to them.

Anxiety

It took me these past few months to accept that I am suffering from anxiety. I didn't think I was anxious, I mean I had always been like this. I worry about everything, I don't understand what it means to be in the moment. I realize that my anxiety is robbing me of my life. 

Accepting that I suffer from anxiety is my first step to help myself and live my life.