Stuff My Therapist Says-Or, What it's Like to Be Me

So, my therapist is going to be gone for a month.  God knows he's entitled to a vacation after listening to me, and who knows who else, bitch, moan and whine about their problems.  I hope he gets some much needed and deserved rest, and I hope I manage alright while he's gone.
 He did tell me if I really needed to, I could talk to someone else, but the thought of explaining my story from the beginning to a complete stranger, um....no.  So until July 15th, I'm alone with all my wonderful jumble of emotions, left to my own devices.
Apparently he knew that fact might leave me a little, for lack of a better word, apprehensive, so, during our last session he kept telling me about all the changes I've made in the past year.
According to him, I am
-more peaceful, less morose.  Of course, I tell him it's because I'm resigned to my situation.  And alright, maybe it's a little more than that.  But I've just had a really difficult week, and that's kind of hard to see right now.  Although sometimes, I am able to laugh, and get myself out of the hole for a little while.
-less reactive, which, according to him, means I don't lash out at people the way I used to. He says it's a good thing, and I suppose I agree with him for the most part.  Not getting angry at people and saying things that I'll ultimately have to apologize for, and keeping my mouth shut so I don't make a bad situation worse makes things easier for sure.   However, it does make me feel like I can't express myself the way I would like sometimes, and more than a few times I've had to leave those feelings unexpressed, and that means I've stuffed them and dealt with all the wonderful things that leads to, such as being up half thew night feeling like the alien baby is about to burst out of my stomach, or intestinal distress or just crying over....stuff.
Ugh.
So, after careful thought, I realize that I'm most probably going back to rehab, yet again.  That's if my insurance will cover it.  I need a break from constantly being alone, feeling  so lonely my chest hurts, and dwellng on stuff that really doesn't help to dwell on, as there's nothing I can do about it.
Again, ugh.
If I'm honest, I feel like a loser going back.  If I'm honest, I wish I could, most days, just go to sleep and not wake up.  Still something tells me to keep trying, and  will.   As much as I wish I could just give up.
If I'm honest, I wish I could see why some people think this is so brave of me, when I just don't.
I wish I could believe what was said about me.
Maybe some day.