Had therapy today which was a huge deal.
We hadnâ€™t seen him for a while, longer than usual, because the last couple of sessions had to be cancelled due to unforeseeable circumstances. So seeing him again brought up some extra issues on top of whatâ€™s going on.
Last night we convinced ourselves that when we got to see him, heâ€™d tell us that he was cancelling permanently, that weâ€™d be totally on our own. It was so believed that we could see no future but alcoholic numbness leading to a jump off Lawyerâ€™s Head. I understand the fear as we have a history of rejection when weâ€™ve most needed the support.
So before we started on anything we asked him directly if he was planning on cancelling our therapy. If we were going to open up we needed to know the rug wasnâ€™t going to be pulled out. He didn seem amused by the question, not in the cruel making fun of me way, more in the fond exasperation that after all this time and all the effort heâ€™s made to be able to continue to see us in some form we still expect rejection way.
So after he declared he had no such plans he asked me why it was I needed to ask. I was able to tell him I needed it to feel safe enough to take the risk of saying things are bad. Thereâ€™s so much shame and guilt about saying that, fear of punishment for not playing by the rules. I told him about not being able to do the school work, I told him about not being able to control my thoughts, my reminiscence of the past, my paranoia, hyper vigilant hallucinations (I keep seeing things out of the corner of my eye, people coming at me, climbing in the window and have to look around to make sure it isnâ€™t real), the unhealthy irrational thinking and the growing desire to numb myself in alcohol. He asked about self-harm, sleeping, and then he asked if I was contemplating suicide.
The thing is a couple of months ago I had gotten to a point when I truly believed suicide would never be an option anymore. I thought I had been able to put the notion of suicide behind me, but today I had to admit it was in my thinking. Now I have no active plans, or even real consideration about ending my life, but the thought is there, the option of it. I can honestly say I am not a suicide risk right now, but I know if I donâ€™t change things, if I donâ€™t find some grounding in this, the idea of suicide will grow in its appeal.
Talking to Sean, I donâ€™t know if I would say it helped, it hasnâ€™t really changed anything. It would be unrealistic to assume it would. But it did feel good in an awful heart wrenching way to speak about it all, good but still coated in so much guilt. He listened and commented. Comments that showed he understood, he didnâ€™t buy into the craziness but he didnâ€™t dismiss it. He confirmed my belief that I have OCD. I had wondered but it didnâ€™t see extreme enough, important enough to deserve a label. He also normalised the crazy. He said there was a normal level of crazy people had, we were talking about my issues drinking water out of the tap, how I canâ€™t take that first glass and he commented that he does the same thing because heâ€™s always worried of spiders up in the tap. But where he has to be normal crazy about letting it run for a bit before filling a glass, I take it beyond normal crazy about having to empty out the first glass no matter how long the water was running first. He said people always have some level of crazy in their lives, thatâ€™s the normal crazy, but mine has progressed past the normal into the levels of unhealthy, dysfunctional crazy. For some reason that was reassuring, rather than dismissing or meaning I was a lost cause.
I donâ€™t know what outcomes came from therapy today. I know I feel so guilty of not being able to play by the rules. We talked about that at the end of the session, how the rules tell me I need to get over it, need to behave appropriately, need not to draw attention to the multiplicity, not still be thinking about the abuse, not have it all crashing in on me, that I need to be productive and presentable, smile and be positive, and breading those rules brings out this guilt about being a bad person. I said to Sean, that I know he hates me clinging to the rules, but sometimes its only those rules that keep me stable, crazy and desperate maybe, but outwardly stable.
PS: On the way home there was a demand for a Big Mac so we ended up in McDonalds. While there we watched a â€˜sane lookingâ€™ woman dipping her nuggets and chips into her ice cream sundae…. so maybe Iâ€™m not the most crazy person on the planet.