Therapy & Fear

I had therapy today and the session was a mixture of crying, laughing, and everything in between. I am starting to feel some attachment form, and that scares the absolute shit out of me. I’m nervous to let myself be open enough to feel attachment again. I’m scared my own attachment feelings become too overwhelming for me to handle. I’m going to have to have a really vulnerable conversation next session, and I’m not sure that I’m ready for that. (I don’t have to, as in I’m not being forced to, but I made an agreement that if this popped up for me, I’d bring it into the room, and I like to stick to my word.)

My life is… a fucking mess right now. I’m miserable inside this house, still being in love with someone who isn’t in love with me. And I don’t say that with bitterness. I’m happy for her happiness, and I want her to have a good and fulfilling life, and I still feel so much heartbreak. I don’t forget love easily. It’s woven into the fibers of my being, and I can’t just strip that out of me. I just have to hold the love and keep it to myself. Which is grief, and reliving grief every day is tiring and hard.

House searching hasn’t been going well. I feel stuck in multiple areas of my life, and that has been another hard thing to sit with.

I’ve been moving in and out of suicidal thoughts and urges to self-harm in my everyday life. It doesn’t feel like something therapy can “fix” in the moment, more something I just have to get through internally as it happens. It’s like someone is holding me underwater and I never know when I’ll get a breath again, and when I finally do get to take a breath, the scenery has changed. Each time, the place that I’m at is different. So basically I’m just really disoriented. I feel like my home isn’t my home anymore. I don’t feel safe here in an emotional sense. I don’t feel like I can relax. I’m scared about what the future will be. I’m scared I end up homeless. I’m scared I can’t hold myself together enough to hold down a job. My functioning hasn’t been at its best.

I’m just scared.

I’m fearful of opening up to my therapist and having her dip. She hasn’t given any indication that she would, and the few times she tried to reassure me, it bounced off. I can’t absorb reassurance that someone will stay. Life changes each second and we don’t know how things will end. We don’t know, and we can’t know. Things are always changing and shifting, and the right combination of things can create situations that nobody expects to have happen. I don’t think I’ll ever really feel like anyone can truly stay. And I don’t mean that as a fault to them… I just mean that as… it’s life.

In the words of Hozier:

All things end. All that we intend is built of sand and slips right through our hands. 

And that is universal grief.

Author Note:

I sometimes let things out here that I don’t share with anyone in my life or with my therapist, like my SI/SH struggles. I just want to emphasize that I’ve lived with both of these things for the majority of my life and that something in me keeps me alive. I’m not sure what that is, maybe it’s just that the natural instinct to live is stronger than the desire to die. What I’m trying to say is, I don’t write this to cause worry or fear for anyone reading it. It’s more just a fact than it is a concern.