I know it sounds really obvious and trite to say that my inability to accept my own emotions is the foundation of my often crippling depression, but it’s completely true. The more I realize that I have a fundamental, human requirement to Feel These Complicated Emotions, the less I feel broken. The more I feel worth fighting for, even if it is only against the dark voices of self-destruction that clamor in my brain. The easier it is to fight when I have to. And the less that I have to, because it doesn’t feel like such a big fight anymore.
My self-hating brain loves to tell me how wrong I am for having my feelings, for getting so stuck the way that I do every now and again in the depths of sorrow and loss that I forever carry. Self-hating brain always felt like the rational brain, because I believed a lot of the Don’t Feel Those Things hype that I got from a lot of the world.