Getting Out The Door

I’ve been struggling to get myself out of the house. To sleep. To eat. To bathe.

I don’t feel as disoriented as I was, but I’m still not back to baseline yet.

I have to go donate plasma today, and I wasn’t sure that I was going to manage to get there, but I think I will. I got myself to bathe, and I also managed to get something in my stomach.

Now I just have to get myself to get out the door.

Then out of my car.

And after that, I’ll be good.

The weight of emotions that come up after sessions is hard sometimes. It’s a lot. I can feel myself fighting not to sit with it, trying to keep myself occupied so I don’t have to think about it.

Maybe I’ll let myself sit with it later.

Or maybe I won’t.

I’m not so sure.

When I think about how much we dig through in one session, it makes sense. It touches on a lot of sore points… my grief, guilt, and shame around termination last year. My childhood. My defenses that are making life harder than it needs to be.

It feels like I’m forcing myself into panic attacks trying to work through it all.

And here come the tears.

Honestly, it feels good to cry.

It’s just hard to let it happen sometimes.

Anyway, I’m going to try to finish rewatching Euphoria before the new season airs Sunday… and then I’m going to try to get myself out the door so I don’t have to skip any therapy sessions.