Therapie

Well, since this is supposed to be a mental health blog, I figured that it makes sense to write a post after each therapy session.

It's not long that I've been having therapy. Deciding in the middle of a Pandemic that I needed therapy could possibly be called bad timing. I'd felt like I was drowning for some time. A convoluted coincidence of events lead me to contacting a therapist recommended by another therapist.

So, I have an American therapist with tattoos, interesting piercings, and a Mohawk, who lives in Thailand. Sounds about right for me, doesn't it!

He's good. In a matter of weeks I felt that we were making more progress than I've ever made in any of the counseling I've had. I did say to him at the beginning, as I have done with various counselors, that I've a backlog of crap in my brain that I need sorting out, so I don't want to work on the here and now. It really bugs me that the counselors I've had, have always focused on the present. The present never goes away. Fixing the crap in my head will hopefully help me make a better present, in the future.

So today we looked at trust. I have a habit of either trusting people far too readily, or not trusting them at all. As an observation I can agree with this. However, I can't really comprehend how there can be an in between with trust. How do you trust someone a bit? I mean, there are people whom I know I can trust with certain things, but know that they have their limitations. Is that it? I prefer to give people the benefit of the doubt. Maybe it's actually unfair to do that sometimes.

As a child I trusted some people, didn't trust others. But my dad I trusted even though he kept letting me down. I kept thinking that he'd come through for me. I suppose it started with little things, like needing help with my homework. He'd always tell me to look things up, or ask someone else. As the years progressed things became worse and worse with my step mother. I needed him to step in and mediate. I needed him to help. I needed assurance that my feelings were valid, that I was valid was a person. He let me down. Every time I tried to get help from him, he didn't come through. 

Therapist Man said today that some people just aren't emotionally equipped in the way that we need them to be. I think that's my dad. I know he struggled through that time, too. I feel responsible for his suffering. I should probably feel responsible regarding my step mother too. I don't.

Blaming myself is something else that Therapist Man has picked up on. I think it's quite a common thing that people do though.

Last session we discussed something that happened when I was at university. Twenty years ago. All of these years I've been holding on to guilt. During the last session I was able to understand that it wasn't my responsibility to take on that guilt. And yet, within hours of the therapy session I had sent an email to Therapy Man because I had remembered more detail of the incident. I didn't realise, when sending the email, that I was essentially blaming myself again.

I'd forgotten all about it by today though. During the two weeks since our last session I've felt sort of more light and airy in regards to that event. It happened, sure. But it wasn't my choice, or my fault, and my feelings have always been valid.

My feelings are valid.

My feelings are valid.

MY FEELINGS ARE VALID.

I'll have forgotten that by the next session.