Bad time at therapy today. I don’t really know what happened, but I ended up not talking and staring at therapist F’s bookshelves instead. I don’t even know why, I just studied the backs of the books and couldn’t make myself look away. Like some idiotic, hypnotized bunny.
Then on the way home I started crying in the car, without even knowing what about, and once we arrived home it just stayed that way. I’m not even feeling particularly sad. I just can’t stop crying, and I can’t think right or feel right or do much of anything. I’m annoyed by mom’s presence, but at the same time I freak the moment she leaves the room or even just my field of vision.
Mom suggested it could have something to do with my resolution to prepare for looking at the basement – the PTSD memories. Me, I just don’t know. I suppose she could be right. Could be something PTSD related. Could be one more shade of BPD. I wish I at least knew what I’m crying about. Or had a feeling to go with it. Anything.