There seems to be nothing I can write to explain my mood this week. I have felt insecure, confused, and rejected. At the same time, I’m frustrated and skeptical to the point of choosing my words with diligent consideration while fighting an inner rage who stubbornly refuses to see reason.
I met with the “new” case manager yesterday. I don’t really have much to say about that except after we meet for a second time this month to fill out some paperwork, I will only be meeting with her once per month rather than the usual 2 visits per month. Apparently, case management is undergoing some changes that limit support to “maintenance care.”
Like so many times before in this never-ending cycle of reliving past trauma, I’m questioning, “What’s the point? Why bother?” And I fear even acknowledging those questions will leave me with no care at all, stuck trying to figure everything out on my own.