I am just so tired. However, I lie down and don’t fall asleep. I’m tired and I just want to cry mostly. But I don’t – it’s not easy to cry.
This morning I got up and went off to the local farmer’s market. So pleased with myself for making it out before it closes at 1 pm. Everything there is quite pricey, but it’s organic, and fresh, and covered in earth. So I buy fairly happily. One wine producer stands alone, his bottles arranged in front of him, and nobody stops. The reason is likely the prices – oh la la. I ask for a sample, and after some discussion he gives me a small glass of pinot noir. Wow. It is so good. So complex, subtle, very dry but not at all sour. It tasted like good woodsy earth might taste, if it was distilled to its essence. I was tempted, but come on. I really have no occasion where I would drink an expensive bottle. To spend $35 dollars on a wine to be drunk alone seems ridiculous. So I go on my way.
I’m still kind of longing to taste it again. I did go back, after the grocery store, as I’d realized I can bring a bottle to Thanksgiving next month. However my father can only tolerate white, so I bought a Riesling, which was ten bucks cheaper. It was tasty, but not like the Pinot. The Pinot was like fine art in a glass.
I bought crisp green beans, apples that taste sweet and earthy and perfumy at once, and some expensive free range pork butt pork chops, whatever those are. I shall see. I could have done without the pricey chops and bought the wine instead, come to think of it. But wine seems like an indulgence while chops are supper after all.
You’d think, having managed that, I’d get home and energetically start cooking, but no. I am just tired, so I lie down, but can’t sleep.
Therapy this week sucked frankly, and I wrote Ron the middle of the night email to tell him so. He wrote back really promptly to say it would be good if I could mention this in session when we could deal with it. Who can argue with that.
What on earth did we talk about. I did mention the family visit of two weeks ago. I talk about how nothing real is ever discussed – it’s all chat about the food, the garden, and yes, wine.
Ron has some theories. His idea is that I can. Phew, I don’t want to write this part. Speaking about my family is just that painful. Anyway, he has this idea that I should go and insist on talking about real things. I ask if that is going to help me feel better. Not right away, he says. Not that day, or that month. But eventually, it’s going to help me feel like I can be my real authentic self, and the world won’t end.
That may be true. But I hate the thought, it just makes me feel kind of sick. They will just reject me, because that’s what they do. Ron has said in the past that the less we have to lose, the more tightly we cling to it. Could be. I feel kind of sick just writing about it. And he’s not saying disclose the SA or parts, or anything. Just talk about how I feel about what’s happening, or talk about anything real.
Deep breaths. I probably changed the subject here.
The whole time I was sitting there, and we were having this adult type conversation about my family, different parts were pushing and wanting time. And at one point I did switch to B, and let her draw a bit. But somehow, this time it didn’t feel nurturing, and it didn’t feel as if Ron noticed her much at all. Ron was in this good mood, and I find he becomes a worse therapist when that happens. He starts talking about various theories he has at length, while I’m sitting there, parts dying to express themselves, but I’m required (it seems to me) to sit and have this adult discussion. And I’m used to doing that, I do it all day at work. But it kills me.
We also talk about my trying to do more. I tell Ron it doesn’t help, when I force myself to do more. That I know for some kinds of depression, getting more active helps. You start to feel little feelings of accomplishment, or enjoyment, and then you do more, and get more good feelings – an upward spiral. But for me, I don’t have that kind of depression. And Ron says no, he wasn’t thinking of it like that.
His thought is that doing more will bring up more feelings in me, which I can then work through, and it might move me forward out of the stuck place I’m in. I hated hearing I’m in a stuck place. I tell him I’m too tired to do stuff. And that feeling things, like I’m trying to do, takes a lot of time. And he nods.
Whatever. I do want to do more, like today for instance, I had totally planned to go to my group. I just can’t. I am so f’ing tired. I think it’s hard for someone to understand how tired one person can be, if they haven’t experienced it themselves.
Anyway, my excursion this morning did bring up feelings – a severe longing for a particular bottle of wine. lol.
I tell him about acupuncture, how it brought up memories. He said it’s impossible to avoid body stuff, like exercise, or the dentist. But what should I do then? He thinks I can bring it up with the practitioner in some way, so it feels more real. But what can I say? He didn’t know.
Right at the end of the session, suddenly we have a small talk that feels more meaningful. Something about dissociation. How I’m feeling things, but the feelings aren’t connected to the events or thoughts that are causing them. Everything is somehow separated and so doesn’t make sense. This feels deeply true for me. I don’t get why, for instance, I want to cry all the time today. Or B will talk, and tell a small story, and start crying, when the story is not at all sad.
So I go home. Then I find I am super wound up, from keeping all the parts in check and continuing to be an adult, it feels like. I find my sleep is worse than ever. I feel furious that therapy seems to have made things worse, and I write Ron an angry email in the middle of the night.
Now, a few days later, I can see the session had some value. We did talk about some important things. It’s just that Ron talked a lot, and parts felt unheard completely. It’s just a complicated salad.