We Become What We Need

Content Warning: Suicide

I have two more weeks of therapy left and I don’t think I have the words for how much I have cried on Thursdays this year.

My therapist is ridiculously kind to me, except she isn’t, she’s normal person kind and I’m apparently ridiculously harsh on myself. Which I would ridicule except I’ve tried to kill myself several times, which is I think the harshest you can be with yourself.

There’s a weird amount of overlap between my own issues and those of the people who wander into my orbit. Or at least the ones who choose to stay.

I never thought I disassociated before starting this course of therapy, I don’t think I realised how much my ability to ‘professionally distance’ was growing and growing until, well probably the whole pandemic thing put it into really quite sharp relief.

I absolutely dissociate, it’s very likely that I have since my early teens, or at least I can think of instances that seem like that. I think what used to happen was periods of intense emotion would be followed by complete floating away, probably in order to process the emotion. Then the emotions got harder to process and the floating got more and more.

So now it’s the crash at the bottom of the staircase and working out where everything is broken, I am looking forward to the end of therapy, I need to stop crying on Thursdays for one thing. But also, I could do with some time to work through all the feelings and thoughts and realisations, maybe even make some art or something to express all this stuff.

My whole adult life I’ve been told I’ve had massive nurturing energy. My Godmother is so surprised I don’t have kids, but that’s the thing, everyone needs some nurturing it’s not exclusively reserved for the maternal even when you’re a woman. I’m not very good at nurturing me though, I’m good at pushing myself and blaming myself and goading myself, nurturing, not so much.

Like my therapist says, maybe a bit on the harsh side.

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