I felt gutted leaving therapy on Wednesday.
Upset that I had to leave in the middle of falling apart. Upset that it took 30 minutes of grounding to let some part of my guard down and then just as I felt like I could maybe talk, 60 minutes had passed and I got almost nothing out. Upset that my therapist is my therapist and nothing more and I couldn’t receive what I felt like I needed after 60 minutes.
I am still stuck with all the stuff that wanted to come out but that I was too scared to say. I have been stuck with it for years, what’s another week?
Or a month, or another year…
And that’s when I left my therapist’s bathroom, still crying and trying to breath, got in my car, and vowed to never come back.
Is therapy this hard for everyone?
It’s painful for me to be in the middle of something so vexatious and have to finish dealing with it on my own. All I wanted to do was get somewhere with someone who could finish being there for me. All I wanted to do was stay. And the fact that I couldn’t and had no where to go to receive the same kind of love, compassion, grace, acceptance, and space that I was receiving left me feeling so angry that I didn’t want to ever put myself back in the same position. I can’t keep doing this to myself. I can’t keep trusting and being vulnerable only to have it hard stop at sixty minutes and feel this distraught over it.
I know being angry about this is ridiculous. I feel like an upset teenager. Tears streamed down my cheeks today when my dietician asked why I felt like I had to stay at my parents house this weekend because I need my parents so badly right now. When I feel so strongly that I need parental guidance or support or just a freaking hug, I’ve been leaning into my therapist. This is usually beyond helpful. But Wednesday it came to an abrupt halt when I needed more than she could give. I turned that quickly against myself: I’m not worthy enough.
How could I be so stupid to think that I am actually cared about as if I were her daughter? It’s her job. I can’t run to her any other time than a scheduled appointment.
I hate myself so much.
I can’t go back.
I feel sort of heartbroken that I tricked myself into thinking I’m worthy or special in some way of this caring mom- or mentor- type relationship that I’m desperate for.
Eating disorder: hi, I will help you.