Sometimes, the best therapy sessions require not so many words.
She knows me well enough to know the big things. How I’m feeling without having to explain why I feel this way.
The history is significant enough to where I can tell her the facts, and I don’t need to explain the emotions.
We sat in the park for 2 hours, and I didn’t have to say much.
I could’ve, and, at times had to really check myself, gotten really worked up. But I took a breath. Took a sip of my (nonalcoholic) seltzer, and just …stopped.
Can’t be looking like a fool getting all worked up about whatever while sitting in the park.
I’m so grateful that our relationship is where it is right now. That it’s strong enough that I can trust her, even in the moments of few words.
No, I don’t need to tell her exactly why this hurts, exactly how, or exactly anything. The foundation is just already there. The history speaks for itself.
By no means did we sit in silence. It’s just that…there wasn’t a whole lot that I needed to say. We talked the whole time, and it’s not like I shut down or anything. It’s just the fact that I didn’t need to use a million words to explain the hurt.
I kept my emotions in check. I didn’t need to explain. Or justify…or anything.
In the moments where my own emotion is so strong, and I want nothing more to suppress the shit out of it…
We spent nearly the entire 2 hours on this. Because it is, truly, that big. It’s that important. To me, and to my husband.
It’s like, I had hope. For a moment, maybe even two…I allowed myself to have hope for the future. I allowed myself to see a future.
And just as soon as I allowed it in, it left. But it left a big gaping hole in its place.
There weren’t any silently loud, uncomfortable gaps. There was no awkwardness where the noise in my head overcame anything else. It was just…2 people talking. And if the noise got too loud, I could talk about the fucking assholes smoking any and everything in the park surrounding us. Or the squirrel that got too close. Or the bugs.
Things have been hard. Last night was hard. And I can’t explain why, but therapy felt like exactly what it needed to be, for what it was.
We didn’t talk about “goals” or drinking (other than to stay safe and no go overboard this week) or really much else.
I don’t know.
Like I said…word count isn’t everything.
Therapy was what I needed it to be. Even if I had no fucking idea what I needed going into it.
I’m still fighting back the tears. And to be honest, I really need to stop fighting them.
I don’t have an answer yet. I don’t have a yes or no. I just know I’m less desirable. Less likely. The second choice.
I don’t know what today has in store. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t afraid. Id be lying if I said I wasn’t constantly fighting back the emotions of the huge probably loss.
I can’t control anything. And no amount of words I say will make it make sense if you don’t already know how I’m feeling.
Therapy was powerful, and I don’t know why. Maybe, it just really means a whole fucking lot, to have someone understand the most….deep, complicated, hidden, parts of yourself.
Maybe it means something. Maybe I should stop fucking running from connection. And stop letting it make me feel guilty. Or unworthy. Or scared.
My best friend texted me last night pretty late too, when I happened to be feeling pretty down. It was just a nice reminder that maybe I’m not alone, and maybe I am loved.
I don’t know. So often I just feel like a burden or a problem. And I just want to leave. I so badly just want to just… run away.
I don’t know where I go, or where my mental health goes, if we get the call today that the other buyer is interested, and they’re going with them.
It’s the first and only thing that’s ever felt like a future really existed. I could see it. And I was so excited for it.
I just can’t handle another thing being ripped away from me. Not like that. Not after fighting for it for 14 months.
(On a side note, the calories from chocolate don’t count when you’re eating it in times of extreme stress, right????)