I love when I have the radio on shuffle because I often come across songs that describe the feelings which are often difficult to put into words. Today’s is called “Inner Demons”. I feel that many of us can relate.
Yesterday my therapy appointment was a bit of a shit show. I spent most of the 45 minute time slot filling out paperwork so they can update their new system.
When I finally got to sit down and talk to my therapist, she asked how I was feeling. “So so.” She then asked if I was having thoughts of harming myself. The thoughts are always there. I said yes, but they weren’t strong enough to make me act on them. I told her the biggest problem at the forefront of my mind is my marriage, and how I’m struggling with insecurity and trust.
“What would your husband have to do for you to trust him again?”
I didn’t know how to answer this. I said he’d have to be consistently open, honest, and respectful. How long it would take before I could feel safe and trust him is beyond me, though.
“What happened after all of the rough patches that made you feel safe and secure?”
I told him about what his dad did to me, and I don’t know what clicked in his mind, but he started being the husband I needed all along. I told her about the time he threw my initial trauma in my face and blamed me for it.
“So he wasn’t loving and supportive of you when you told him about your first trauma, but when you told him about what his dad did to you, he was?”
We were almost out of time, and she told me to look up guided meditation on YouTube and practice it.
I left the session feeling worse because her questions only added to my questions, and the only answer was a fucking YouTube video.
I feel like therapy is pointless, but then again I’m feeling like everything I do is pointless. I need to swim back to the surface and find meaning in my life again.
Has anyone tried guided meditation? If so, did you find it helpful?
Today is my first day of therapy. I drove 30 minutes with the music turned all the way up to drown out my thoughts. I was having a good day, and then my husband came home “joking” about shooting our puppy for making a mess. I told him it wasn’t funny, and he kept saying that he was only joking.
I said that jokes are supposed to be funny, not painful. He said that it’s funny to him, and I told him that I guess that’s all that matters then. I was then told to just stop.
My therapy appointment went well. I told her a little bit about everything that’s weighing on me, and she gave me a chapter to read on coping with distress. She asked me if I have a “safety plan” for when I get to the dark place again. I told her I will go straight to the emergency room.
She wants the hospital to be my last resort, but with a lack of a safety net, it’s my only resort. The hardest part about discussing my painful experiences goes beyond their trauma. It’s a reminder of the fact that nobody was held accountable for their actions, as well as how alone I truly am.
Sure, I have a husband and kids, but I am still alone in my battles. Maybe learning new coping strategies will finally help heal the wounds and allow me to truly move forward in life.
Only time will tell.