Back to Therapy, Back to Painful Reality

I saw my therapist for the first time today in 3.5 weeks. We had both been abroad so I had not had a session in almost a month, which is a really long time for me. I was nervous to see her after so long; in fact a large part of me felt very avoidant and just wanted to screw the whole thing altogether. Obviously however, (being me) my love and attachment towards her overrode the avoidance urges. So I did Opposite Action to Fear and all that jazz, and turned up as planned, despite the state of panic I was in.

It was a highly productive session overall; we covered a lot of ground. I was so happy to see her, and she seemed happy to see me too and to see the colouring pages I handed her! I have had a lot of family stuff going on and she was incredibly validating about it. We talked about things I’ve never talked about before. It was like being away from therapy for so long made me realise how valuable I find my sessions and how much I need to express myself in the way I do with her. So everything sort of burst out of me, I was so relieved to have someone around to listen. And she was so attentive, it hurt.

Afterwards, a cloud of sadness came over me. Being back in therapy means I’m back to really getting in touch with some of the feelings I’ve been pushing away over these last few weeks. It means I cannot hide as easily from the current life situations I find myself in, and I have to face the reality of those – and the subsequent fear and sadness. 

After my session, I travelled home in a daze and melted onto my bed in a heap of emotions and exhaustion. I felt so much worse mood-wise than I have in recent days, and the fatigue was overwhelming. My sadness around current life situations also spread into sadness related to my therapist and the usual “attachment pain“. Seeing her after so long today made me realise (yet again) just how much I love and miss her – and how much that love can hurt. In a way, I miss her more now that she is back than I did when she was away. I don’t know quite how to explain that. I miss her even when I am with her, to be fair. 

All I have wanted for the rest of the day is to speak to her and be comforted by her. I cannot explain how exhausting it is battling the urge to seek contact and affection from her so tirelessly. I am trying immensely to only contact her when I really need to (i.e. in a crisis), and she recognises how difficult that is for me. But it doesn’t make it any easier.

I have been functional and hectic recently, but today has been much harder than previous days and I fear the functional façade is cracking. It is fucking hard for me to live without therapy, but I must say it is honestly no easier living with it – it is just a different sort of struggle.

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