Sunday, November 27, 2011

Chugging Uphill

I appear to be at a very critical part of my therapy. I have learned so much about myself, especially this past five months. When I first started counseling, I was in a crisis situation and the counselor I was assigned at the women's shelter was amazing in how she listened and helped me to understand why things were as they were. It's quite a relief to learn that no one has any control over how another person reacts and thinks and behaves (much as some people like the idea of being a control freak). Oh, I knew that stuff before, deep inside me but to have it applied to so many situations that I thought could have been different if I only had said this or done that or looked a certain way or laughed instead of smiled....well, it was very eye opening.

Over the summer, that first counselor moved to another state and I was assigned a new one. At first I was dreading getting to know a new personality and thought I was going to have to re-hash my whole life story and yada yada. I was uncomfortable for the first couple sessions and I swear I think I was just babbling away for the hour, not making any cohesive, back-to-back sentences. And then it hit me. I don't have to talk about anyone but me now. I'm sure she was briefed on my sessions with the first counselor to a small extent but none of that really mattered. I could change my goals for therapy and figure out what is going on with me and wow, that was liberating to a person who has put everyone else's needs before mine for many, many years.

Then it happened. I walked in to her office a few weeks ago holding an item that triggered a lot of bad feelings in me (one of those converted cell phones set up for 911 that I was returning) and the flood gates opened and I just shook and cried and felt all those scared feelings as sure as if I had slammed in to a wall at full speed. Since then, I have been unable to stop all the feelings that I have stuffed down over a very long period of time. I know I can't stop them. It's painful and I know it is part of the process. A sort of grieving process that I must experience and feel so that I can come out whole and intact on the other side.

That very day, I said to my counselor that before our time began, before I sat in that lobby holding that damn phone in the Ziploc bag, before I was flooded with that trigger so powerful it shook me to my core, I was going to tell her that I felt so good I couldn't think of anything to talk about that day. She said to me that people say that all the time, usually at the end of an emotional hour. Apparently, just when one starts to feel really good, the brain says, ah yes, I've been waiting for you to get to this point! Now, let's deal with all this crap you haven't dealt with yet.


Well, it will be. Someday.