I’m feeling a bit beat today. I had a session this afternoon with a new therapist I’ve been seeing…
…two sentences in and I’ve lost my trail of thought because the baby started whacking me in the face with maracas. You can see why it’s hard to get a blog post out, jeez.
So anyway my new therapist, let’s call her Doris, is pretty awesome. My first therapist, aka Marge, is awesome too and we bashed through a lot, but it was more on the logical side and missing an emotional depth for me. I’ve found that with Doris and boy is it leaving me raw.
I feel like years of pain have suddenly seen a green light signalling that it’s safe to come out, which is great but also unexpected and a bit overwhelming. I cried so many times in session today and struggled to describe why, other than to say it felt like the tears just needed to come out. I would consider myself an emotional person but I hadn’t realised I had started to put up barriers when it comes to showing the real deep vulnerability through tears, because for one reason or another it hasn’t been ‘safe’ to do so. And yet Doris has been able to tap into it straight away. Compassion comes very naturally to her and she is very attuned to me already. I’m not sure if excited is quite the right word, but I’m feeling very good about seeing her. I feel hopeful about healing these deeper wounds.
Today we talked about how I get upset and angry when I feel overwhelmed by the demands of my young children. Not because of the demands themselves, but the guilt and disappointment I feel when I don’t meet a need I think I could or should be meeting, because it’s impossible to do that all the time. It is clear that beneath the surface I am petrified of my children feeling rejected or unimportant. I set very clear boundaries for most things, and I am both loving and firm. I’ve come such a long way in tackling this but STILL I fear them sensing my exhaustion and need for a break, and them internalising it as there being something wrong with them, when in fact it is my issue and I just need a break to recharge.
Then Doris asks me, what do I think of myself? And I could not stop the tears
I tell her I feel like an unlovable mess, that I’m weak and needy. She tells me that for all I’ve been through I’m actually quite strong and resilient. I heard her words, and whilst on some level I agree with her, deep down I obviously don’t see it that way. The way she says it, it sounds like something to be proud of. But I tell her, it’s more like ‘lone survivor’. She gives a silent understanding nod, then asks me do I feel alone? I tell her, I think I’ve felt alone all my life.
These are heavy words for me to say, and I don’t think they really convey just how damaged and distressed I felt today. Day to day, you wouldn’t even see any obvious evidence pointing to the level of pain that was unearthed. But there it sits, still. There is more to be done.
For the first time, I am apprehensive about therapy. I sense a danger of being unravelled, when I thought I was already a fairly open book. It seems I’ve been holding on to more than I thought.