Day (Program) of Progress

I had my family meeting today in the partial hospitalization program.  Mom drove.  I had her valet the car.  And we walked side-by-side down the hallways to the elevator that descends to the program. I find this poetic somehow - I dig into my personal depths in that space and then reascend to real life.

Anyway.

Mom and I talk every day about what I think and what I've learned so there was little new there, except an overall review of what Ive done and how I plan to go forward.  And while it's been on my goals list (we make 3 goals per day according to our diagnoses - my categories are (1) depression, (2) anxiety and (3) relapse prevention) to journal, I've been distracted.  Monday I joined match.com.  Yesterday I took a bath, tried a mindfullness meditation and went to sleep.

[Side Note:  I'm having miserable pain in my right calf.  I've tried exercising through it.  I've tried different exercises.  I've tried resting.  I had a 60 minute massage focused exclusively on the backs of my legs.  I stretch.  I bought a massage stick thingie and tried rolling and just pushing the end of it into the muscle.  What the hell should I be doing to make this go away?!]

Where were we?  I had to go back and read what I'd written last week - you know most of the story so we can pick up on progress this week!  Cool.

I mentioned I'd visited a friend - and her baby - and ended up fleeing (hopefully gracefully?) when I got stressed.  I mentioned it at group - more in a 'how do I deal with this stuff at work - when someone unintentionally stresses me - and escape is not the healthy option" but then other stuff came out.

"I guess," I replied when someone asked what we'd been discussing when I got upset, "we were talking about dating.  She said she'd check with her husband to see if he knew anyone awesome enough for me."

"Oh, no," I had immediately replied, curled up on her couch and taking a sip of my water in the room decorated for Christmas and bathed in sunshine.

"OK," she offered, but cocked her head at me with supportive curiosity.  "Are you going to look online?"

"No," I smiled, appreciating the curiosity and action plans of those happily married.  "I'm not ready."

"OK," she repeated, smile slipping a bit.  "But you said you wanted someone."

"Oh, I do," I confirmed.  "But not yet.  I have to lose weight - get in better shape.  Figure out my mental health and make sure I'm fully recovered.  Be more spiritually connected.  Maybe volunteer somewhere."  I trailed off, feeling my face tug into frowning concern when she started to cry.  "What's happening?" I asked after a moment of wondering I missed while I was talking.

"You're wonderful!" She cried and I blinked at her again.  "You're beautiful now.  Smart and kind and so funny.  Now.  You love God today.  You help people all the time.  You don't need to be better to have someone love you!  It makes me so sad that you think that."

I might have rolled my eyes.  I know I thanked her, patting her hand in friendship.  And she dried her tears and we continued out conversation.  Before I reached my limit and left.

"Wow," my case manager said after I finished my story.  "So what do you take from that?"

"I thought it was weird?" I offered hesitantly, feeling uncomfortable and knowing we were uncovering something I liked being hidden.  "That her reaction was too strong when I was stating facts?"

"Are you worthy of love?" She asked and I cursed silently as I blinked back tears.

"Not really," I replied softly.  Honestly.  "I can be - I hope I will be if I try hard enough - but not yet."

"That's not true - can you recognize that as a distorted thinking?" And then the group - a wonderful group of wounded and wise people - confirmed that I was worthy - beautiful and charming and fun.  They had advice - men are never perfect, maybe I'd have to leave my comfort zone to meet someone - but I've since decided on a mantra.

I am worthy and loved.  Now.  Then.  And - romantically, sexually, wonderfully - in God's time.