I couldn’t write yesterday about my therapy session. It was so horrible I went to the pub afterwards and when I got home the vodka had numbed me enough that I just went to sleep. So I’ve thrown away over 100 days of sobriety. And I self harmed too.
My session with J was so awkward. I had nothing to say, and I didn’t want to let her get close. So I withdrew and stared at the carpet for an hour. I couldn’t find any words. There was a sea of sadness blocking me from being able to communicate. J kept pushing and the more she did that, the less I wanted to speak.
I hate it when sessions are like that. It feels counter productive. Not only is it a waste of time to go to therapy and not say anything, it makes me feel anxious and frustrated. I get angry with J because she wants to get inside that shell I build around myself. And yesterday I felt like I was testing her patience, she seemed frustrated as well. That led to me feeling as though I had failed her, and my codependent nature means I can’t stand that thought. I can’t tolerate the notion that she might be annoyed with me. I care about my relationship with her too much for that to be OK.
When I left her place, I went straight into self-destruct mode. I walked into the nearest pub, knowing it would be dangerous for me to drink, knowing that I would feel even worse about myself if I broke my sobriety. Even with that knowledge, I went ahead and did it anyway. I wanted to hate myself. I wanted to punish myself. And I knew that alcohol would numb me, even if it didn’t make anything better.
The vodka had the desired effect. It felt warm and familiar and for a short time I was soothed by that sensation. I felt mellow instead of agitated. I stopped caring what happened after I left the pub.
Once I was drunk, I did my usual routine of weighing up my next move. First, I considered getting on a bus and disappearing for a while. That seemed pointless, as I knew as soon as anyone was worried I would come home. Next, I thought about suicide. I planned what I would do and how I would make sure it worked and I wouldn’t end up in hospital again. I sat with that thought for a while, feeling excited about it. I got a rush of adrenaline, just thinking about the potential.
Usually if I get drunk, I go ahead and follow through with those plans. But I didn’t this time. I stopped drinking before I was out of control. I took a slow walk home and when I got in I allowed myself to cut. I felt as though not doing everything else I had planned meant the cutting was OK. By comparison, it was unimportant that I self harmed.
This morning all those messy emotions of yesterday have somewhat settled. But I don’t want to go to therapy again. I am glad I don’t have a session today, because I couldn’t cope with a repeat of yesterday. I have to see J tomorrow, and even that feels too much right now. But she’s away next week and I don’t want all these difficult feelings hanging over me until she returns.
So I’m going to have to go and talk to her about it. That scares me. I’m scared she will be angry with me, or disappointed that I reacted so badly to our last session. It frightens me that this has all come up right before her holiday, when I know I have trouble with the thought of her being away. It always feels to me like her going away is a poignant reminder that she could leave me at any moment, and I get so scared of that. And until I feel less like everyone I need wants to reject or abandon me, that fear is not going to shift.
Photo credit: IH, Creative Commons