Thursday, August 25, 2005


Had a hard therapy session today. Ms. N got to witness first hand just how well I can stuff my emotions in about two minutes flat. She could tell I was going over the edge and said it was ok to cry. But I managed to suck all those emotions back in to the black hole of my inner turmoil. It was easier to do that than to cry in front of her.

We started by discussing her going away for two weeks and how I was worried she wouldn't return. She kept trying to reassure me that she was only going on vacation and that she has every intention of returning, barring any unforeseen catastrophe. I told her that the rational part of me wants to believe her, but the paranoid side keeps screaming not to put trust in anyone so I don't get screwed over yet again. That side also keeps playing the negative tape of all the "see I told you so" crap from my past when I allowed myself to have faith in someone else which typically ended with horrifying results.

My mood was rather agitated today, and when I get this way it's just a negative roller coaster ride in hell, which she endure with me. We ended up on the topic of my feeling defective and not being able to accept anything without taking the blame for it. Talked about how I'm so unsure of all my past memories, as to whether they are reality or not. She said that the memories probably weren't a 100% accurate but no one's are. She said what's important is the emotions being generated by them because those are real and I have to allow myself to feel them.

I told her feeling them now wouldn't change anything that happened, so why reopen all these old wounds. She of course told me that the wounds are already open, they never healed. The emotions are just coming out in inappropriate ways and usually at inappropriate times. She explained that I need to feel those emotions, need to grieve my past so I can move to the future.

This is where I started to unravel because she asked me what I think would happen if I did allow myself to feel, to mourn. I felt myself tearing up and I said I was too afraid to do that. Then I fought to hold myself together. Closed my eyes and focused on my breathing before I'd say anything more. After a couple of minutes, when I felt calmer, I told her that by feeling those emotions I would have to accept that everyone in my life had failed to love, protect and nurture me, including myself.

Failureā€¦that is one of the hardest things in life for me to accept. My thoughts are that when you fail, especially at something so important as knowing how to live whether anyone else had a hand in how things turned out or not, there aren't any do-overs. You don't get to go back and change things. That failure is etched into your being. Other people sense it's presence in your life and treat you accordingly. I'm scarred for life, my own personal Scarlet Letter. I can try to hide it, cover it with a false facade, but everyone will still know it's there. Especially me.


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