Unexpectedly bad. Then unexpectedly awful.

If only I could explain to you just how fucked up the past few days were.

There’s no way I can talk about it or explain it in any kind of way that would make any kind of sense to you, but as far as Monday went, it was even more of a shit show than I was ready for.

I went in and got basically attacked, not by my own therapist, but someone else. Over an issue that is honestly ridiculous. The logistics of it don’t matter, that’s for me to somehow piece together.

We spent the first 40 minutes waiting for them to come in, waiting for a bomb to be dropped on me. I was told to prepare for it from the night before, and so I was. Prepared. Mostly.

Then they came in, a confrontation was had, not a conversation which implies mutual respect and communication, and I was placed in a logistically impossible situation.

Then this person up and left 20 minutes later, without any kind of resolution or any real communication other than an actual list of demands that I was supposed to immediately agree upon despite the logistical nightmare that it presented itself with.

And then my therapist had the pleasure of dealing with the *me* that was afterwards.

It didn’t go well. Nothing about the night did. The only good thing that happened was my therapist possibly kind of reassuring me that she wasn’t getting rid of me. That’s what the worst case scenario would’ve been. This is probably a far second. Or third. I don’t know.

I spent most of the second hour telling her that I didn’t need her. That I don’t need anyone. Sure, I want my husband, I love him, but I don’t need him. Same with her. She’s helpful. And one of the most important people in my life…but I don’t need her.

I don’t need anyone.

If I don’t need you, you can’t hurt me.

We got home at 8:30. My husband and I agreed, not knowing what the night would bring, to come home loving each other no matter what. And we did.

And then I died. Oh, how awful it was.

Around 9, I started feeling…bad. In a weird way. It didn’t get better. And I spent the entire next 12 hours with my head in a toilet while my insides tried to escape my body in any way that they could.

Was it a stomach bug? Was it stress? I honestly don’t know. I got less than 2 hours of sleep, my body was so weak at that point that I couldn’t function.

I spent all of yesterday trying to recover. Still feeling like complete shit. But also trying to, respectfully but directly, ask this person from the night before to sit down with me and have an actual conversation about what the fuck just happened so that we could resolve it and move forward.

I was respectful but clear. And all I got back from her was what felt like some insane hostility and tension. While I’m coming at this from a point of resolution, that’s not what the other person seems to want to happen. I never said I wouldn’t give her what she wanted. Needed. Whatever.

I said I wanted to have a conversation about it and resolve whatever issue it is that she’s having with me. As I said to her. I’m a reasonable and agreeable person. And I’m not looking to continue or create any conflict. I made that clear. And still, I was met with nothing but tension and hostility. From a person I genuinely thought I had a good relationship with.

“I don’t deserve to be treated as badly as she’s treating me”

“I agree.” Even my husband, who was unknowingly and unwillingly dragged into all of this, thinks it’s wrong and completely fucked up.

It is what it is.