Darkness and Storms

Darkness

Last night was dark. Literally, figuratively, emotionally…it was all just darkness.

Therapy was hard and weird as shit.

I went in, all fake happy and pretending to be okay, when I knew I very clearly was anything but. I told her that my brain felt like shit and uncooperative. I tried to shut it down and fake it. Be empty. I didn’t want to let the feelings flood in, the ones I knew would overwhelm me in a really significant way.

But then it just all came flooding back in. Every single emotion that I was trying to pretend didn’t exist. That I was suppressing. It broke through the dam and fucked me up.

And I shut down. Like, a flip switched. And I shut the fuck down. I couldn’t get it back. I was just gone. Powered down. Off. Alone. And hopeless. That was the feeling.

Hopeless.

It didn’t get better for a long time. Like….straight up silence of me just being completely shut down. Couldn’t engage. Because wayyyyy too many feelings. They flooded in and overwhelmed me.

It was a long time before things got any kind of better. Like, I don’t know how long it was in actuality, but the entire thing was probably at least a half hour of me just sitting there basically dead.

I don’t even think she knew what to do with me at that point. And the only thing happening inside of my own head was how much I hated myself. How much I wanted to die. And how there’s not a SINGLE feeling in the world that’s worse than sitting in therapy silently while my thoughts are absolutely screaming inside of my head.

I tried really hard to come back, to check back in. But it wasn’t happening as fast or as effectively as I wanted it to. But I think she could at least see that I was trying.

A few weeks ago during a session with my husband and his therapist, I shut down in a very similar way to how I did last night. That night a few weeks ago, she sat next to me on the couch (instead of my husband who was there) as directed by my husband in an attempt to figure out how to make me feel better. It was actually extremely helpful and I checked back in rather impressively quickly, much to my own surprise.

She did the same thing last night. After a long ass time of me being a shut down asshole piece of shit, she told me to move my things over (my therapy folder that I bring every week and my phone) and she sat down next to me on the couch and showed me some of the things she had been making (differently weighted snakes for sensory purposes).

I was hopeless and shut down and fucked up enough for her to try something that’s only been tried and successful one time before.

I was still a little bit of a mess, but I was at least able to soften a little bit. We talked about crocheting. And about nothing particularly serious or stressful.

Just…I guess trying to be okay again, I don’t know. I really don’t know how to be okay again when I feel like that. But I do know that she’s doing the very thing that I ask my husband to do when we’re fighting or arguing and I shut down.

I ask him to help me be okay again. To connect with me, to instill confidence in me that we’re okay, that everything is fine, that I’m not alone, and that we can move forward and it’s okay.

I feel like that’s basically her version of doing that. Which, in writing this out, it makes sense why it’s effective. She’s doing exactly what I need and what I ask for from my husband. He doesn’t, or isn’t able to always give it to me. To instill the confidence and reassurance that I need.

But I guess that’s what it felt like. Like an emotional pat on the head.

I don’t know. I’m using a lot of words now and maybe it makes sense, and maybe it doesn’t. But I just feel like a whole lot of blah. And a whole lot of terrible.

Storms

When it was time to leave……

We couldn’t leave.

Guess why?

That’s right, storms.

Tornado sirens going off, then insane winds. Trees coming down. The power went off in our building immediately as we were standing up to leave.

We stayed in the waiting room for about 45 minutes before it calmed down enough to leave. Driving home was terrifying, but we made it.

One thing that we did talk about when I finally came out of my own head was how everyone’s demands and needs are just weighing me down.

I said how I feel like the trees around here.

A whole tree. A whole, full grown, huge, deeply rooted tree.

Sturdy, strong and stable.

Until it encounters enough rain. Enough turbulence and distress.

Even the most robust of trees will uproot. Fall apart. And cause damage as they come down.

I’m the tree.

And my life is as stormy as the actual weather has been.

I can’t stand anymore.

And I’m becoming unrooted.

I need the rain to stop.

Or at the very least, I need someone to support me. So that even if the ground is saturated and the rain won’t stop, I can still stand strong. Knowing that I’m supported.