Why does writing feel like jumping off a cliff lately?
Therapy has been hard. And not so much therapy, because there I have the luxury of another’s attentive presence – it’s coping with the feelings afterwards that is so very hard. If only it was just fifty minutes’ pain, and then normal life again. It isn’t.
I’ve been so down I’ve had trouble with normal life. Laundry, cooking, cleaning up – none of it is happening. I feel too weighed down to manage it.
I went for two sessions last week, one Thursday, one Saturday. I was ambivalent about the second, and I see why – just more stuff came up for me to deal with. The reason I went was because at end of Thursday’s session, there was a part that seemed to be screaming for attention, but we ran out of time. Ron offered me Saturday, and I went away and thought about it, and then said yes. I love having his attention, having someone to talk to. But of course, it’s very painful. These parts are parts because they hold emotions that were too painful for me to process as a child. It makes sense that contacting them is painful.
I can barely stand to talk about them. Anyway, speaking a bit from a distance, one part, V, is a teenaged part. She has only started to talk to Ron in the last few weeks, though I could hear her loud and clear. I didn’t know she had more to say though. She complains that we stopped taking photos – she loves taking pictures apparently. So as a way of taking care of her, I’ve started trying to take a few pictures again. It does help that part, which in turn helps me.
The part on Saturday was a very young child part, that I can only hear crying from a distance. We talked about how to help her. I feel helpless about this part, like there’s nothing I can do. She doesn’t talk, just cries. Ron says that if she doesn’t talk, that’s because she’s been told not to. That it is our human nature to say how we feel, from the time we are born to the time we die. If that’s not happening, it’s been stopped.
I try talking to this part, but with no response. Ron asks how we can take care of her. How would I take care of a young external child who was crying and felt awful? I don’t really know. I guess I’d try talking to her, finding out what’s wrong. I could drink hot chocolate, watch cartoons. I play nice music sometimes, I tell Ron. Does that help he asks. I’m not sure.
OK, enough about parts. We also talk in a regular way about how I feel people are shying away from me, that I think loneliness puts people off. If you’re happy, you put out a vibe that attracts people to you. If you’re not, it’s like you repel them. That’s how I feel at work anyway – like people don’t want to talk to me.
Well, today I had a long phone call with a very old friend. I really connect with her, and we had a good conversation. I can pretty much discuss anything with her. Though I haven’t mentioned parts. But therapy, emotions – it’s all OK. Then my ex came over, bringing cabbage rolls. We had a more ordinary conversation. But still OK – I tell him about work, and looking for furniture. I do feel connected to him, though less so than to my phone friend.
I haven’t heard from my friend E, and don’t expect to for quite a while. I don’t miss her really. It’s good to have a friend, but I’d just have to pretend with her, and I don’t have the energy for that. I don’t need people I can’t connect with.
Wonder if I’ll ever work through these parts. It’s difficult to think about much else when they’re stirred up like this. One good thing being, I’m sleeping better again. I guess dealing with a bunch of crap during the day is positive in that respect at least.
At the end of my Saturday session, I walk out of the therapy room and there is A, my frenemy from group two years ago. I had wondered if she still sees Ron, as she seemed volatile, but apparently yes. She didn’t say anything to me, but returned my greeting when I said hi. I wonder if she got married in the end. I wonder if Ron likes her more than he likes me.
I am grateful that Ron cares enough to offer me a second session on the weekend, just because he thinks we’re getting somewhere with the parts. I am grateful he care enough to talk to parts, even though they don’t make sense a lot of the time. He never tries to talk me out of how I’m feeling, even though it’s dark, and it must be tough to listen to. I appreciate that.