I fight them but the insidious negative thoughts fight their way in. I once again leverage the ant metaphor. It seems that for each ant you crush, 70 sprout up in its place. Eventually the effort it takes to even kill one ant becomes too much and I allow myself to be subsumed by the oncoming tide of ants.
Perhaps I've gone too far with this metaphor.
I feel myself shutting off, shutting down, not letting anything or anyone in. Every word, every action becomes cause for further withdrawal into myself.
All the therapeutic progress in the world can seemingly not keep it at bay, this tide of negative thoughts, self-conciousness and doubt. It doesn't matter how much love I'm shown, how many kind words I hear, the only ones that get through are the benign that somehow morph into expressions of hatred and hurt. It's like a constant, pulsing undertow that is always quietly waiting to sweep me under.
Far too many nature-based metaphors and similes here, you can say it.
It somehow turned into a rough night and it's no one's doing but my own.