Well, a difficult weekend. Yesterday was spent mostly in bed, with me being too down to even watch TV.
This morning I again contemplate going to services, and I would have gone, but I’m so slowed down I wasn’t ready in time to go.
What is the sorrow? Not sure. Work seems overwhelmingly awful. But it is mostly the same situation as before, when it didn’t seem so awful.
I went off to my session Thursday night, after writing my post about work. I started in telling Ron basically what I’d written about. Ron felt something like I sometimes exaggerate conflict, and brought up the situation where I’d felt he and I were fighting, or not getting along, while he hadn’t felt that. I didn’t say much at the time, but actually I think the situation is pretty different. I always really cared what Ron thought, while I don’t care so much what my co-worker thinks.
I brought up how depressed I’d been feeling, and Ron said something about how I seem to have a fair amount of anger and disagreement, but that I’m turning that all against myself. Oh yeah, I was feeling negative about everything he said to me, and he picked up on that. He invited me to voice my disagreement.
I agreed about the negative feelings. Just, I didn’t think they were justified. He was generally saying perfectly nice things that made sense intellectually. I told him I have attacked other people in the past, and it’s not been a good experience. Ron said our goal here would be to try to understand what the angry / dismissive feelings are about, so it would be different.
I agree that in general, when I’m too nice and stifle my real opinions too much, I do get more depressed.
All this time, I’ve been feeling profoundly exhausted. I think about just slipping sideways and putting my head down on the couch, and closing my eyes. I tell Ron I just can’t talk, I’m too too tired.
Ron says it’s OK if I don’t talk.
I get out my crayons and paper and start doodling. No one says anything for about ten minutes. I feel as if I’m pushed against a glass wall, and the effort of saying or doing anything is too much. I feel vaguely sad and frustrated by this situation.
What’s happening? Ron asks.
I tell him I feel sad, and a bit scared. Why? Well, I’ve depended on therapy for a long time, but if I can’t talk….what’s the point?
I feel like I’m wasting my money sitting here not talking.
One time not talking, among so many other sessions…I think that’s OK, Ron says.
So I keep sitting there, not talking. I think about leaving early, but feel too tired to make that effort. I feel so sad and alone, but just completely unable to fight this inability to talk.
I forget how it happened, but for some reason, parts are now allowed to come forward. B tells Ron her perspective on work. She talks about some social things that happened, which she liked, but also that mostly she doesn’t like work. She starts crying. Then V, a teenage part, also comes forward. She sees all of work as black, lonely and scary. When I’m V, things do seem overwhelmingly dark and hopeless.
Interestingly, once these parts are allowed to talk, there’s no shortage of things to say. Suddenly they remember all kinds of things I didn’t remember. I did remember, but it didn’t occur to me that they were of any importance.
So this is positive. However, parts talking leads to overwhelming emotions. I start crying, which I suppose is their pain. As this goes on, emotions just flood up. The session is over, but I can’t stop crying. Ron tries to talk about scheduling, but I can’t regain control, and just cry hopelessly every time I try to respond.
I tell him I’ll email re scheduling and head out the door. I can’t get it together enough to say goodbye, so I just leave.
Once I’m walking away from the building, parts start receding, and I get my rational self back. It kind of feels like I’ve been in a car wreck, but it’s over now, and I’m walking away.
A kind of dissociative wall slams down. I feel the wall, and it feels uncomfortable, but at least I can drive home and get to work the next day.
So, that’s all I know really. It’s really rough getting through the workday Friday. Saturday I cannot function. And here I am, Sunday, trying to get it together once again.