rocky roads

It’s been quite the rocky road since T has come back. There’s been a lot of adjustments and to be honest I’m not having the easiest time of it. As T pointed out many moons ago, any change for me when it comes to him is absolutely catastrophic. Where we stand now there are 5 more sessions and then he’ll be gone again for at least two months.

On the outside, I am totally chill. I keep telling people that I am fine. Yet, I am not sure that I am fine at all. I have shut down because I am terrified of losing what little control I feel like I have over my life. Inside, I feel a fucking mess. I know it and T knows it. And while both of us know it, it doesn’t seem as though things will be changing anytime soon.

One hurdle in therapy has been the decrease from two sessions a week to one. Then, because it’s easier for T at the moment, we’ve also changed the time of day that we meet. Now, one would think that something like a change in session time wouldn’t be a problem, right? For me though, it’s a problem. A problem that I’m having a very hard time with.

Part of me is saying that I shouldn’t be such a fucking baby about it and should be grateful that T is even seeing me considering he only works a few hours one day per week. Part of me feels like I’m fluttering like a kite that’s been let go and has become stuck in a tree. Part of me is just angry and sad at the same time and can’t see the point in any of this.

I can’t seem to adjust to the subtle things that this time change has created–the noises are stranger, the sunlight shines at a different angle in the window and the world outside T’s office is busier and louder. I’m having a hard time settling within those four walls and I feel like time is slipping away from us.

The biggest change has been in the way T and I communicate–both in and around session times. Writing has always been such a huge part of this journey as speaking has always felt absolutely terrifying (I guess that’s what happens when people tell you they will cut out your tongue and kill you if you tell anyone what they did). So we painstakingly worked our way around it and in sessions we would either go through emails that I sent or read things written in my journal.

However, when T was gone I struggled with what to do. Texting and calling I knew was okay because he had told me so, but we never discussed email whatsoever. Somehow us not discussing email was interpreted by me as it not being allowed and I was left feeling like I couldn’t share any of my writing with T. It caused a huge sense of disconnect and I experienced extreme feelings of isolation and abandonment.

To try to get my head around everything I started a new notebook when he went away. I wrote about the anger and the sadness and all of the things that were going on in his absence. I thought I was doing okay with it all. Two weeks ago though, it all went to shit again. I had decided to bring my notebook with me to my session because I wanted him to know exactly what went on with me when he was gone. We read through a lot of it but then we got to a really hard part and I couldn’t bring myself to read it out loud. I ended up handing the book to T so that he could read what was there but somehow he kept it and I left my session without it.

I didn’t really notice until the next day when I needed to write and remembered he had my notebook. I absolutely panicked. I wouldn’t see him for another week and all I could think was that I shouldn’t have left it with him. Not because I cared whether he read it–I didn’t–but because it felt like I had no other place to put the words, thoughts and feelings that were happening in those moments.

I tried to sit with everything and not send him any crazy texts but in the days that followed the walls felt so fragile. It felt like my world was on the verge of collapse and I desperately wanted to find a way keep the walls standing. I couldn’t make sense of anything and found myself saying nothing, muted, desperate and frustrated.

Finally, 5 days later (because 5 is apparently the magic number before I feel like I can’t do anything else and am about to disintegrate) I texted T to ask if he would bring back my notebook. A while later I sent another message asking if he would get my email message if I were to send one.

I can’t really explain it but for some reason it felt as though all of the rules had suddenly changed. T says nothing is different and that perhaps it’s my rules that are the ones that have done the changing. Maybe he’s right but I don’t know how to make it feel like everything is the same way it’s always been.

I think T and I are working towards a new normal. At least that’s how it feels. And if I’m being completely honest I find it utterly overwhelming. My natural instinct is to isolate but I am trying my best to fight against it. I don’t feel like I’m being very successful though. Some days I feel angry for no reason at all. Some days I just feel sad and the slightest thing can make me cry. I startle quickly, tire easily and have zero room for anymore bullshit.

T says it all makes sense. He says I’ve put my trust and heart in his hands and he’s gone and fucked it up. Not on purpose, of course. But this thing with him, it’s definitely done a number on me.

There’s a certain type of pain to all of it. It’s the kind of pain you can’t ignore because it blocks out everything else and makes the rest of the world fade away until all you can think about is how much it hurts. Most days it feels like I’m clawing myself out of a deep pit. My fingertips are raw, my knees are covered in scabs and the top feels a long way off.

History shapes us and resurfaces time and time again. I know this pain. I’ve been here before.

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