I wrote yesterday about how much therapy had unsettled me. It was strange, because during the session I felt OK, but walking home this awful gut dread caught up with me. I couldn’t work it out. It was making me want to start a fight with someone or scream.
This anger gathered in me and my instinct was to call the police. Tell them everything my brother did. I wanted to make a proclamation that this horrible injustice was done to me and get him arrested. I had to talk myself down and remind myself of the possible consequences.
When I got home I felt unsafe. If I had been alone I would have done something really dangerous. Because once again I feel like I’ve reached a point at which nothing will change without me taking a big risk. And I felt angry with J, which hasn’t really happened before.
I know it is healthy to get angry with your therapist. It’s a training ground right? But I don’t do it. Sometimes I get mildly annoyed or irritated by something she says or does, but not angry. I emailed her last night to cancel our sessions next week.
The cancellation wasn’t purely because of this seemingly illogical anger. It was because I feel like I’m circling the drain. I’d made my mind up a few weeks ago that the only way I could end that problem was to take risks. Yesterday J said we can’t take those risks for a while. She also spoke about me not ‘needing’ to see her. So in combination those things made me feel like there’s no point carrying on with it.
Today, as everything settled, I realised the anger was because I feel like J has censored me. I know it is with the best possible intentions, but she has told me not to talk about the abuse. To stay away from difficult material that might trigger my dissociation. I’d always felt that with her I could vocalise my internal world more freely than with anyone. It’s something I couldn’t do growing up. That’s why I’ve described therapy as feeling like breathing out after holding your breath for a really long time.
I don’t know how to move past this. I am scared of talking to her now, because I’ve made an issue of it. She’s asked me to go to my session on Tuesday and discuss what’s happened, but the thought terrifies me. I don’t want to be angry with her. But at the same time I do. I know it would never be her intention to censor me, but on a subconscious level I think it really rocked me. It hurts to be silenced. Again. And I never expected to be hurt by her.
Photo credit; Kenny Louie, Creative Commons