I want to be in therapy……

I want to be in therapy……then why do I struggle with talking, behave like a teenager who is being forced to be there, resist talking about things Bea says we need to talk about?

Why is it so hard to behave like an adult? I know I need to go, I legitimately want to be there. I would be upset of I had to miss one of my two weekly appointments. So why can’t I get the words out? Why do I struggle to say what I want to say? Why do I still feel the need to give the “right” answer or to say the “right” thing, when I know that Bea is only there to help me, and she can not help me if I am not honest. Why is it so hard?

Every week I tell myself, “no more. Today you don’t hide your face. Today you sit like an adult. Today you will talk about what you need to talk about.” Instead, I freeze. Talking about anything that isn’t idle chit chat, or about someone else, is too much for me. If I have to open up, even a little bit, about myself, it’s terrifying. Which is probably surprising. Because I talk a lot, but never about anything that is real, that could make me feel even a little bit vulnerable is hard to talk about.

I make Bea do a lot of talking, I struggle to get words out, I sit in silence, I, stare at the floor. Sometimes, I’ll even know what I want to say, but find it hard to say out loud to another person. So I struggle. Bea will sometimes guess and try to be helpful.

I wonder if it’s odd, to want to be in therapy, to be the one who takes yourself, to show up every week, and to still not talk?

I’ll have to ask Bea. Maybe this would be a good thing to explore next week while we are taking a break and working on safety.

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6 thoughts on “I want to be in therapy……

  1. Sometimes just showing up spending time with the person is good enough. And over time, with the right person, which ii sounds like you have, a deep recess, the soul? begins to trust, even if just a smidgeon, in a way that your head keeps reporting it’s ok to share. The head blares one thing, our gut says another. The gut knows, give it time?

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    • So maybe this is a “normal” thing? I feel like because I have chosen to be in therapy I should be able to go in and talk; that it should not be like when I was younger and my parents forced therapy on me for my ED. Then, I refused to talk. Now, I feel like I am acting the same way, but I am struggling not to. Ugh. I hope that makes sense, :/

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      • Oh, I’d say so very normal. So many choose to keep these struggles inside them for life. And each person chooses what is right for them, I’m not judging. I think most people choose not to ever talk about CSA, and all the things one becomes compelled to do to survive. And I do say survive because it’s a trauma to be touched like that as a child. A handbook I once bought was COURAGE TO HEAL. The title says it all. Courage. I think it takes courage to show up, over and over again. I feel great admiration for you. And more so, that you are facing this stuff then coming home and writing so eloquently. Just how do you DO that? There’s a very steady, focused person and writer sliding down the rabbit hole. Didn’t Alice find a wonderland at the end? .. : )

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  2. Cat's Meow says:

    Oh, yes, you are not at all alone in your experience. I have this problem as well, although it has gotten much better in recent months. I, too, had to tell my T many of the difficult things via email to start.

    When I started to work with her again after a break of several years, the work quickly became very intense. The only way that I could deal with it was to write and then send what I wrote to her via email. There were weeks when she got 25 pages total or more from me. Over time, I have both been able to reduce the frequency of the emails and the length. I still tell her things by email that I fear that I will “forget” to tell her otherwise or that I am certain that I won’t have the nerve to voice, but if she knows about it, we can then talk about whatever part of the issue that I can talk about out loud and eventually work toward the larger issue.

    I could write on and on about this issue, because it is one that I struggled with so much. I’m trying to remember what was most helpful with breaking through the barriers. One thing was talking with her about the experience of trying to talk. She would ask me why it would have been a good thing to not be able to talk as a child and we would explore that and how things are different today. Another was that I realized that part of my fear was allowing her to see the real me, but then I learned that if I left the session without ever establishing a sense of connection with her, it was far worse for me than pushing through my fears and making that connection. Another was learning to be compassionate with myself and not get mad at myself for not being able to talk, but to instead ask myself what would help me to feel safe enough to talk.

    It’s all a process, though, and it’s one that will take time and patience. Fortunately it sounds like Bea has the necessary patience for her side. 🙂

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    • Hi. 🙂
      I’m pretty sure Bea has the patience for this work, she seems to, and she seems to think things reveal themselves as they need to in their own way— writing or speaking. But it is so darn hard to walk into that room and talk about my “stuff” and continue to behave like a competent adult. It frustrates me to no end. We have spent time “talking about talking” which has helped, at least to the point that I know Bea ‘gets’ it and I have a sort of understanding about it.

      Thank you for sharing. It’s really nice to know it’s not just me, that it’s normal. It seems that I am always worried about being ‘normal’. First growing up, and now I worry that I’m too “crazy” or “difficult” for therapy. Oh boy.

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