We'll get Through it.

I'm relying on a lot of things to go right. I'm too scared to take action because I don't want to see over confident. Part of me also believes that I'm really not adequate.

I need to learn to take better care of myself. I need to learn to love myself. I've heard about the whole mantras..."I am enough" "I am beautiful" blah blah blah...But you can't just say that to yourself if you don't believe it. I could say that to myself hundreds of times, but in the end I wouldn't believe myself.
How do I go about fixing this? I want to be able to see myself the way my boyfriend sees me. I want to be able to believe I'm as amazing and incredible as he says that I am.
I'm not pitiful and I don't need sympathy.
I just want to know what to do.
But, why can't I figure that out for myself? Why do I feel like I need someone to tell me?

I'm afraid of failure...I am afraid to fail.

Elimination of Emotion

    I feel like I allow myself to get emotionally invested in everything I do or am involved in. For example, simply watching Grey's Anatomy...My heart hurts and I cry until my lungs give out. I feel like I'm part of this group of fictional characters. Their losses are my own, and their laughter brings me joy. I'm not sure if that's good writing on their part or if I'm actually insane. I have a love/hate relationship with Shonda Rhimes.

I have actually considered naming my child Meredith.

    This turmoil goes for everything in my life, not just soap operas disguised as television shows. THEN when I attempt to explain myself to someone who is genuinely concerned for my well being I become an emotional wreck. I lose words and I sound like a babbling idiot. It's a wonder I've been in a stable relationship for so long. Some how though, my boyfriend has been able to make sense of my insanity, so I try not to question it.

    I don't quite understand myself right now. I don't even know why I have the urge to make sense of myself, or why it is that I feel as though I need to explain myself to anyone. Why I'm crying, why I'm upset, why I'm writing, why I'm happy...But I should try and start accepting the fact that I don't need to explain myself. Because it doesn't really matter why or how...but what matters is what I'm going to do about it...and I don't need to explain that either.
    I used to think that displaying emotions was a sign of weakness. My initial reaction when I feel myself tear up, is to suppress it, and try and take back control. I've never really allowed myself to just cry without stopping. Because I've always had this notion that if I allowed that to happen then I was only propelling my sadness. I still have yet to make sense of that. If you think about it, it's kind of silly and stupid. If someone had broken all of their bones, you'd expect them, and even allow them to be upset with the situation. You wouldn't think that was unnatural. So why do I feel differently with my broken mental state?
Because you can't see what's been broken. You can only see how I've been changed.

I've been to see a therapist a couple of times. She helped a bit. I don't think I was ready to leave. I wish I could have kept going.

When Happiness is Taken Hostage

I'm not going to take time to explain myself. I just need to put these thoughts to rest.    

    Lately I've been second guessing myself. I'm constantly wondering if I'm doing the right thing to reach an ultimate goal. What if I've taken the completely wrong approach. What if I'm not even supposed to be where I am now? I can't remember the last time I was able to relax and not have my mind racing over a thousand miles an hour. I've been keeping my thoughts and worries to myself and when I finally can't take it anymore, everything falls apart and I cry myself to sleep. Which I haven't been getting the best of by the way. I grind my teeth at night and I wake up with stiffness in my shoulders. I've snapped at my boyfriend more than I care to admit, and the worst part is that he's grown to accept it. He says he understands that I'm going through some things I need to work out.

But why is it that I've allowed these mole hills to become mountains? Two or three years ago you would think I was a completely different person. Some people say that university has changed me. For some reason I've refused to believe that I'm "weak enough" to let a little stress turn me into a depressed vegetable. I can't remember the last time I painted purely for pleasure. I can't remember the last time it was that I actually had faith in my skills and talents. I used to be someone who took life as it came. I didn't dwell on the past. I wasn't anxious about the future. These days I find it difficult to even introduce myself to someone without getting a panic attack. My chest hurts often, and there's very little oxygen in my lungs. I'm slowly allowing myself to pick my esteem like a dried scab.
It's not supposed to be this way, life. I'm supposed to be adventurous, and unafraid. I'm supposed to be willing to try new things and take risks that I've never thought of doing. I'm supposed to love fearlessly, and smile often, and treasure life, and dream so big that it's scary. To some the solution is simple..."Then be that kind of person you're supposed to be." Right? It's that easy? I've just been living this way on purpose and depriving myself of success because I just wanted attention or I'm just too afraid to take action. I've just accepted the pain of depression as an everyday thing and that's my fault. It's my fault, it's my fault, it is my fault. My life can't be so awful that I feel this way almost everyday.
 
    I don't know what to do. I hear so many stories about yoga practices and meditation, and how it's relieved so many people of anxiety and stress. I've read articles about taking time for yourself and allowing yourself to have feelings of sadness, or learning to love yourself.
It's frustrating...I'm a burden to those around me.
There's so much in the world to be happy and grateful for, and I feel like the only one who's gasping for air.