My comfort:
Psalm 139:1, 7, 13-14, 23-24 NRSV

1 O Lord, you have searched me and known me.

7 Where can I go from your spirit?
    Or where can I flee from your presence?

13 For it was you who formed my inward parts;
    you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
14 I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
    Wonderful are your works;
that I know very well.

23 Search me, O God, and know my heart;
    test me and know my thoughts.
24 See if there is any wicked way in me,
    and lead me in the way everlasting.

There’s a part of myself I’d like to befriend, I empathize with her, but I don’t like her. It’s too hard.  I haven’t forgiven her for the mayhem she causes, unaware, the relationships she destroys, the judgment she invites.  These are irreparable damages.

She isn’t all bad. I mean, there are some wonderful and happy memories- and I’ve done the hard work to remember her innocence, her goodness.  I get her.  I underwent the testing, I did the research, I have weighed and analyzed my mental health issues. I talk about her in therapy – I understand – but it’s hard to accept all the things she did and does that I did and do that hurt and continue to hurt. It’s hard to shoulder this responsibility. 

She feels so betrayed, used, and less than enough.  She is always a part of me. She is inside my mind, and my gut- she reminds me how I routinely dissociate.  She brings shame to the forefront. She is inconsolable. She takes me down to the depths, and part of me remains suffocated there. She tells me I did this to myself. She begs me to see her, to acknowledge her, to love her, to affirm and absorb her pain as it seeps through my mind at inopportune moments. 

She is me, and I just come short of embracing her. I am not whole – because she needs my help to heal.  That lonely, confused, misguided young woman who can’t find herself is still me.  She is the me who feels worthless, who begs for  attention. Who makes life altering choices in desperation.  When I fall into depression, she washes over me.  I succumb to regret. I believe the lies she takes for truth.  I believe I have failed, I’m insignificant, unlovable, and too selfish to be dignified and respected. Even with evidence that this can’t be true, I still spiral down like a kite who has suddenly lost its supporting wind.

My hope:
Isaiah 43:18-19

18 “Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past.
19 See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.

Be kind to yourself. You are never alone.