I thank my analyst and my current psychiatrist for all the help they have provided, but I still feel like mostly, it's all up to me, and sometimes I feel like everything I do to try to heal is a shot in the dark. There's no question that I have improved, the original problem seems to be gone (or at least leaving), but the after effects are crippling. I can distract myself by being with friends or picking myself up by my bootstraps in other ways here and there, but alone again, I am weary when I think too much about it. My body might just give out from all of this, I could die young... I'm not sure. Self abuse is still something I engage in, but only in the mildest sense - you won't ever see me with razor blades, just a smack to the head or a desire to choke myself, which never lasts. Again, it's an old pattern that isn't fully broken, and happens when I panic. Divinity usually successfully restrains me with an invisible force to prevent me from harming myself at all.
The only thing I truly care about anymore is my relationship to Divinity and building on that, on feeling loved after being possessed by an entity of hate, on fostering the best that I can get out of what remains of my time here in this world. I hope to go as far as I can in my spirituality that I won't ever have to return, because most of my life has been pretty hard. As a child I endured constant bullying, my teens meant a difficult home life, and my 20s were impossible. I can't imagine that if I don't get this sorted out by 50, the aging process will ever be kind to me.
I must have lived some mighty strange lives to deserve this, or else this is an intense test leading to something better. Whatever the case, I hold onto hope when I channel that nicer times are ahead, and I might even have an extremely good life coming. In the meantime, I try to live a bit like the "Little Way" of St. Therese of Lisieux, and approach this time with childlike humility and devotion.