Some days are worse than others

I've been a pessimist for a good portion of my life, at least all of my adult life and for most of my childhood. Yes, children aren't supposed to be pessimists, but when your stepfather is abusive, there's not much to hope for.

Anyway, today was a bad day. Well, yesterday was, too. I didn't even touch Lady E, and only added a sentence or two to finish my current fanfic. Other than that, I was on the couch all day.

Today was started off by a nightmare of recurring fears of abandonment and followed by feeling completely defeated. I have a hard time seeing in myself the successes and the things I've managed to change for the good. Instead, I focus on the failures and obsess about what I want to be able to do but am limited in doing because of my health, both mental and physical.

In these funks, my husband is really the only saving grace. Sometimes he does the typical man thing of trying to fix the problem, telling me what I can do to feel better. Today, though, he took me by the hand and gave me concrete examples of what I'm doing, of how I'm changing for the better. With tears in my eyes, I accepted it.

And I think that's where a lot of my grief comes from: not accepting myself. I'm not saying that I should settle for anything, rather that I'm not willing to see the good things in myself. Sometimes it takes someone holding up a metaphorical mirror for me to see.