furi.blog

Lately, it feels as though I only experience productivity in short bursts.

Admittedly, I did organize the entire apartment over the course of a few weeks, but I have a tendency to overlook my accomplishments. Therefore, even this achievement doesn’t feel significant enough to feel much pride about. I’m working on it.

My therapist and I discussed how I have to counter my anxious thoughts in their attempts to make me believe that I will inevitably fail. As cheesy as it sounds, believing in your abilities is a must. Even if it does not feel like this belief is based on facts at first, the alternative (thinking you WILL fail for certain) is entirely unlikely to ever aid you in achieving the goals you have in mind.

So I try. I fight back against this feral child who lives in my head (who is also me.) No, I am not talking about dissociation or a personality disorder. It is just my cruel inner voice I am trying to describe. I have always called her an inconsolable feral child, because she is not likely to listen to reason. She is a creature of rage, indignation, resentment, and fear. I cannot mother her, but I do try to hold her, sometimes.