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Hope I'll be the last diary I'll ever write

ok thanks to sudden usuall night time stress I came from barely able to get out of bed to completely aware and sitting normally in my desk chair
 
Busy forgetting my whole life 🙃

I was very determined to stop going to this thing. Because it was bad for me. I said I'll end the contract. I ended the contract.
I don't remember at all why it was so important to end the contract. I know why. I just can't remember why this was so bad I had to stop going there.

I'm terrified I can forget so rapidly something so important
 
Today I took a video and some photos of my flat. I'll see my aunt in few minutes we'll eat together then I'll show them to her ans she'll make me visit her home and introduce her cats
 
yesterday I talked with a part of my not close family for hours then read things I shouldn't have. Today I'll try to start a life diary, putting in important stuff about my life and my feelings. Several people from my health net adviced me to do that because I tend to lose important information about my life because denial mostly and spending my days flying from reality throught fiction. I'll hide the paper part in my house and protect the virtual part with a password to get me the impression it's locked so can't hurt me

no one I autorize at home would read or try to find it, it's really to protect myself from the knowlege nothing else
 
I read the thread about torture here. My judgmental voice keeps saying I'm horrible to read fiction torture when it's worse that what I went through but keep finding fiction about it because "relating". No one Wanted me to suffer it was a side effect.

It's too hard for me to keep being in this forum because I keep feeling like it's a competition when I know it's not. I'm not losing because it's simply not a contest.

I wanted a place with people I can relate and people who relates with my experiences. But I still can't deal with the truth of what happened to me.

"It's not that bad" keeps saying my brain. And lot of time I believe it.

Maybe spending time in therapy from my 7yo to now around 30yo is the proof I don't want to get better. That this reality of suffering is too normal and comforting for me ?

I won't stop trying to get better but I'm not really motivated to get better either. Suffering is my whole meaning in life my only reality. Getting better would kill the one I'm currently being
 
Not sure about if I'll leave this place soon. I won't suppress my access anyway.

I'm doing a post in social part of this forum to have an external view of the situation
 
I wanted a place with people I can relate and people who relates with my experiences. But I still can't deal with the truth of what happened to me.

"It's not that bad" keeps saying my brain. And lot of time I believe it.
You know, that's one of the biggest things many of us have in common here.

I might gently encourage you to venture outside of your diary a bit more, maybe start a thread asking other people how they experience their own versions of 'it's not that bad'...

In a lot of ways - getting better is just about looking at what happened and accepting that it was real. That's something that needs to be done over and over and over again. It's not just one day, suddenly, you realize it was bad and then you believe that, forever. More likely - you'll realize what happened, but then a few hours later - you'll be right back to telling yourself it wasn't as big a deal as you were thinking it was, or seeing how others have it worse, or justifying it by staying that you deserved it, or any one of a million other ways that we reinforce the trauma event within ourselves.

That's what PTSD is - it's getting trapped in a loop. In order to get out of the loop, you'll need to take the trauma out, look at it, really see it for how much harm it's done you; and then, keep doing that until you find that you're not just telling yourself it was bad - you honestly believe it's exactly what it is: serious trauma.

Then, it's possible to begin understanding how to move forward and leave it in the past.
 
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