It’s been over a week since I’ve been to therapy, a vast difference from my typical twice a week schedule. I like it when things make sense, when I can be prepared, and when I more or less know what’s coming.
I thought that would be the case going into Monday.
Honestly, I thought I’d go in, talk about the shit that went on during the week, my son getting his wheelchair, how I hate the Fourth of July, etc. I thought we’d talk about our upcoming plan to start EMDR, and how I’m afraid of that and what it all means and entails.
But things have changed since then and it feels far less simple now. Not that it was simple before, but… What happened a few days ago is still something I’m really struggling with.
There are things that I don’t want to talk about. That I straight up don’t know how to talk about. It’s going to continue to tear me up if I don’t work through this, or at least attempt to make sense of it. But I sometimes feel so completely incapable of…talking.
Writing, I understand. I know how to get my point across, how to make things sound like they do in my head. But talking?
Shit. Now that’s just a concept I can’t seem to get my head wrapped around. It’s clumsy, I don’t know how to say what I mean without stumbling over my words or just being awkward as shit.
At least, that’s how it sounds in my head. There’s no delete button, no editing, no second guessing. I like to be graceful with my words, or at the very least, not sound like an idiot. In all honesty, it probably sounds better than I give myself credit for. But when it comes to difficult (for me) topics, I just don’t know how to say what I need to.
It’s like it becomes physically impossible to speak, even if my head is screaming the words.
This is something I would never bring up on my own, It feels weird and wrong and just…I feel conflicted. The whole things is causing so much anxiety and confusion. I once again finding myself in a position where, if it were anyone else, I’d be furious. But since it’s just me, I’m sure its no big deal.
So I’ll let it continue to eat me alive and ignore it. Maybe it’ll come up one day, maybe someone else will bring it up, maybe she will. Even if she does, I’m sure I’ll completely brush it off.