Therapy homework PT 1 🙂

A Little Background Before the Homework Begins

Like I shared in my first post, I’m in therapy. But before I dive into the homework my therapist gave me this week, I figured I should give a little background so everything I talk about actually lands where it’s meant to.

I’ve been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, PTSD, and anxiety. I’ve walked through more trauma than most people know: sexual abuse, losing loved ones way too young, drug abuse, physical abuse… and honestly, that’s just the surface of it. With all of that in my past, it probably isn’t surprising that therapy is part of my life. Not the cute, lighthearted kind — the real, gritty, soul-level kind.

This week my therapist gave me an assignment:

Write down what “toxic me” wants my life to look like right now, and then write what “healthy me” wants.

She gave me this because, in her words, I have more insight into my mental health than most people gain in a lifetime. I can spot when I’m slipping into hypomania or depression. I can breathe myself out of a full-blown anxiety attack in under four minutes without medication. And truly, I give every bit of that strength and clarity to God.

Yesterday when I walked into her office, I was in a hypomanic episode. My mind was buzzing and I confessed I’d been having intrusive thoughts — the kind that don’t match who I am at all. Thoughts about cheating. Thoughts about hallucinogenic drugs. Thoughts that feel like old ghosts trying to drag me backward.

So… here I am, doing the assignment.

What “Toxic Me” Wants My Life to Look Like

If toxic me took the wheel right now, she’d pack every piece of clothing I own and disappear. She would leave behind everything familiar — my home, my responsibilities, the people who love me. And as much as I adore being a mom and a wife, if I didn’t have a heart… I’d probably really do it.

Toxic me is tired. She feels weighed down by commitments, overstimulated by life, stretched thin by expectations. She fantasizes about running to the mountains, buying a tiny house, and living like a full-blown hippie — daily mushrooms, smoking the Lord’s Lettuce, drifting through life with no responsibilities and no one depending on me.

And if I’m being brutally honest, toxic me wouldn’t stop there.

She would self-sabotage in the old, dangerous ways — cheating with some old drug dealer or another low-life mistake. She’d slide back into hard drugs. She’d lose everything I’ve spent the last ten years rebuilding. She’d lose my kids. She’d burn down the entire life I’ve fought so painfully to heal.

And who wants that?

Not me. Not the real me. Not the healed me that God is shaping.

So today — right here, right now — I choose self-control. I choose wisdom. I choose the hard but holy decision to stay rooted. Toxic me doesn’t get to run the show. She had her time, and she took enough from me.

The goodness of the Lord will always triumph over the old darkness.

And every day I choose the version of me that actually wants to live.

XOXO,

The Healing Wildflower

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