Therapy today: Behind a wall

Even in therapy, I hate being asked how I am. In almost no situation will I respond honestly to that question.

The at work how are yous are the easiest. Nobody expects anything too real or too detailed, they are merely filling conversational space. So I say I’m fine or a bit tired or busy or whatever else they want to hear so they can get on with their day.

Friends are tricky. My good friends know I’m mostly not OK. They know I made a serious attempt to kill myself about 8 weeks ago. Their enquiries are genuine, but I still try to avoid answering them. They love me and want me to be well, to be stronger. If I give them the honest response, I imagine they will be upset, disappointed, worried or possibly all three.

It’s similar with family. I can’t tell them how I really feel, without them panicking and feeling like they have to be responsible for me being safe. It must be the rebel in me, but one of the things that makes me feel least safe is being supervised all the time. I feel exasperated and angry, and this almost always makes me want to self-harm.

Of course, my therapist always asks how I am. Usually ‘alright’ is an automatic response. Often coupled with a shrug that says I am lying. I wouldn’t be there if everything was alright. And it’s her job to know how I am, so she’s not satisfied until I’ve said more.

With her, I really want to provide an answer. That’s the point of me being there. But it’s like I get stage fright. The pressure of this short-lived opportunity in my week to be real, to genuinely say what’s going on for me can make it impossible to even begin finding the words.

That’s what happened again today. I just shrank into myself and couldn’t find a way out. It’s incredibly frustrating, because I know I’m not going to make any progress if I don’t talk. But suddenly it feels unsafe to go there. Perhaps it is because I’ve had a mostly stable few weeks, so I’m terrified of going into anything that could wobble me. Maybe it is a consequence of my therapist’s recent holiday, maybe there has been a rupture. Because I feel more distant from her that I have in the past, less connected.

My therapist asked me what’s behind my withholding. This isn’t what I normally do in my sessions. But lately I arrive at her office and I just want to hide. I feel like I’m frozen and I can hardly see her. At the same time, I want to make the session easier for her, because I like her. I don’t want to be difficult. I know this isn’t how it’s meant to be, but I really don’t want her to be disappointed by me. And I feel she would be let down if she knew I’ve been self-harming again and thinking about suicide.

It’s like if I don’t admit that the reckless voice is still there, I can keep fooling everyone that I’m getting better. Because outwardly I am. I’m going to work, seeing friends, not ending up in hospital, that’s all progress.

But I can’t shake her, that self-combusting me. She’s still in there, urging me to harm myself, to get drunk, to stop taking my meds or going to therapy. She’s there, as strong as ever. Telling me to close my eyes when I’m driving and hoping I will crash.

Image from Creative Commons, courtesy of Richard P J Lambert


8 Comments Add yours

  1. noimnotok says:

    I hate the “how are you” question. It’s the reason I named my blog. Because in real life you mostly can’t answer “No I’m not ok”.

    Liked by 3 people

  2. animalangels says:

    I know this wall too well..

    Liked by 2 people

  3. estrella1982 says:

    I’m right along with you. I also have that person inside of me that often screams for me to go back to the damaging ways of coping that I used to use. I also have spent so much of my life focusing on showing the world that I am okay. But when I was smacked in the face of a bag of bricks of a mental breakdown, at first it scared me, but more recently, I’ve decided to embrace my pain, hurt, tears, and learn from them. I’m tired of acting like I’m ok. I’m tired of proving I’m strong or not sad or depressed. It becomes a constant battle, fighting to show the world you are sane or ok. I’m tired of it. I’m so tired of acting like I’m okay, because one thing I’ve learned recently is that not being okay, is okay. I am allowed to cry, scream, be sad or angry. It’s okay to have all those feelings, but what’s important now, instead of avoiding them like the old me would, I deal with them. Write about them and talk about them so I can understand it, even if I won’t ever feel understood by anyone else.
    Keep your eyes open and tell that girl to go to hell. Tell her all the things that are great about your life, even if its just a roof over your head or food on the table. You are alive for a purpose and don’t ever let her tell you different.

    Liked by 4 people

  4. Those words are so heartfelt and kind, I know you get how it feels. Thank you. I can almost feel your hug x


  5. I know that feeling all too well, like admitting to your therapist that everything’s not perfectly peachy means you’ve failed as a client, like you are not trying hard enough… but sometimes you can do everything right, you can try your hardest, and things can still be a struggle. It’s ok. It’s expected… hope you can find your voice at least with your therapist. Maybe telling her the part you wrote about what freezes you up would help? (I know, easier said than done, but maybe hand her a copy of what you wrote?)…
    I’ve been there so many times. Sometimes my fear in voicing how things aren’t going perfect might give those imperfections more power, make them more real… if I can at least convince my therapist that things are ok, maybe then they really are (even if I’m self harming, or siucidal, or completely non-functional in everyday life)…
    It gets easier over time, but right now it’s ok that things are still a struggle, and it’s ok to admit that.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks for the suggestion. I do sometimes share my blog posts with her, so maybe I’ll forward her this. I just get impatient with myself, I’ve been like this for a year now and I feel like I should start showing everyone who’s been invested in my recovery that it is actually happening! And thanks for the hugs. They are always appreciated, even the virtual ones.

      Liked by 1 person

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