My psychiatrist says I have a tendency to catastrophize, of think of the worst-case scenarios in my everyday life. And it’s a habit I’m finding difficult to break.
As my Facebook friends know by now, I recently got into a relationship. He is wonderful – sweet, smart, caring, and understanding. But I cannot help but worry.
What if it doesn’t work out? I mean, look at me – I’m a handful. I have episodes of depression where I can’t seem to muster the energy to do anything but cry. Will he be there for me still when I can’t take care of myself? Or will he run for the hills? I mean, he says he’ll be there, but he’s never seen me depressed and suicidal before. I’m scared that he will eventually get tired of it and leave.
I constantly ask him if he still wants me around. It’s stupid and needy and whiny, I know, but I can’t help but ask for his reassurance that he’s sticking around. It’s my abandonment issues at play – a lot of the times, I don’t feel I’m worth staying for, or fighting for, because I’m so freakin’ damaged.
He says he’ll attend therapy with me so my psychologist could educate him about my mental illness. This is a good sign; it means he’s willing to open the lines of communication even more. And he always reassures me that he’s not going anywhere without me.
Still, I can’t help but get nervous. When I’m this happy, what could life possibly take from me next?