Breaks in the Damn

Yesterday was therapy. i got nothing else done. i went to therapy and those shields i had put up to protect myself from feeling crumbled a little.

i walked in all "high and mighty" and didn't expect much from the session, since i gave up wanting to feel for the next while. It took 1/2 hour for Sandy to as fro consent to push me. i told her that i consented to her doing what she thought was right. Then i told her i was consenting to non-consensual therapy. i told her that i knew that she wasn't trying to break me, but to help me reach my long term goal (which i think i have actually figured out), knowing that my short term goal goes totally against that.

i kept trying to change subjects on her. We actually got quite animated in the way we were talking. She would acknowledge my trying to change subjects, i would acknowledge her bringing me back to subject. She would ask tough questions. i would avoid them at first and then acknowledge that i was doing it. She would acknowledge me bringing me back to where we were.

i guess most would say it was a good session. If i wasn't so wanting not to feel, that i didn't. i got crying. i got scared. She has yet to push me to the point of being angry. (although she is trying because i gave her permission to do so). i came home feeling broken. Feeling like i couldn't close those walls back up. i felt sad and missing and tired. i cancelled the rest of my day. i went into my room and hid. i let all those emotions run over my. i let them take hold. Sandy would say i was mindful of what i was feeling and letting the wave roll over me. All i could feel was lost.

i am better this morning. By better, i mean the wall is back up. i am back to how i was before i left. Sandy would say that it proves her point. That my fear of the grief and sadness won't swallow me up, and that i can be ok when those emotions are hitting me full force. But that isn't completely true. i started building the walls back up as soon as the feeling started to come out. Sandy could see me starting to build it as we sat there. She watched me count off my responsibilities as i breathed. She watched me get logical and try to pull away from the emotions.

So, since i let myself go so much last night, i have a mess of dishes to clean (yes i binged). i also have a bunch of stuff on a table i want to clean off, some laundry to do, a living room to tidy, and stuff to take into the basement. If i think of what i need to get done, i can hide behind it and just keep doing what i need to do, to feel like i can survive.