I’m having bonus therapy this week. J suggested I see her every day for a little while, to get me through this difficult stage. I agreed because I’m having some trouble keeping myself safe.
What happened today was odd. For the whole session, these quiet tears just kept streaming down my face. I didn’t feel like crying. I didn’t sob or weep. My eyes just produced these alien tears all by themselves. I felt detached from it. Like it was this automated body function that was running independently of my thoughts.
I am sitting with a great deal of darkness. In that place I’m holding the feelings of rejection, abandonment and shame. They are heavy and sticky, so I can’t ignore them. God knows I’ve tried.
Busy is what I’m doing to try and escape. I’m energetic and cheerful at work. I go home and clean and tidy everything. I’ve got a bit obsessed with personal grooming; I shower a lot, cut my nails, epilate my legs, brush my teeth, floss, then start all over again. I walk the dog for miles and miles. My feet are sore from it.
Without all that busy, I’ve just got this bleak emptiness. It almost feels like grief. I keep diving so far inside myself that I can’t be close to anyone, I can’t connect with life. It’s a default for me, introverting when there are horrible feelings. I learned at a young age that my suffering couldn’t be tolerated by the people I love.
What opened me up today was something J said when I disappeared into myself, like I always do. She said she could hear the worst things I have to say; the details of the abuse, my self-loathing and suicidal thoughts, and she would still be here for me. None of that will tarnish what she sees in me.
It was an incredible relief to hear that. To know I won’t be rejected for how I feel, or seen only as what I’m feeling – rather than as a human being. Somehow that made my darkness just a little bit less lonely.
Photo: Zoltan Voros, Creative Commons.