falling flat

Friday’s session was not a good one for me.

It started out fine, the usual ‘how are you?‘ followed by some basic chatter about the weather, vaccinations and such followed by another ‘how are you, really?‘. It’s good that we have these types of conversations. Before, T used to sit and stare at me, not saying a word, driving my anxiety through the roof. After 6 years though, we’ve sort of found our groove at the beginning and it seems to work for us.

Then the silence started. You know the one-where you have oodles to say but absolutely nothing comes out of your mouth, your body and parts of you are screaming at you to just say something, anything and all you want to do is exhale. ‘Shall we continue on in your journal?‘ T suggests. ‘Okay‘, I reply in gratitude. Journaling has always been a major form of communication for T and I. Without writing I think I would have quit therapy ages ago. You’d think by this point I’d realize that my abusers really don’t have the power to kill me if I open my mouth, but some days it’s harder convincing parts of me that it’s really the case.

Last week was a rough week for my journal and I. Each day I was switching between so many different emotions (sometimes multiple emotions within short periods of time)–rage, disappointment, anger, hurt, frustration, sadness, waiting–and each day I would try write about at least one of them. On Friday we started talking about anger, hurt and frustration. I heard the beginning but that was about it.

Suddenly, without warning, T’s voice disappeared and my thoughts were off in another place thinking about the nightmare I’d had the night before.

Myself and a girl I did not know were being chased because a man I did not recognize had been murdered. I knew that it was her who had murdered him, not me, but I was still there with her. They were looking for the weapon and when I looked down, I had it in my hands. Suddenly, I found myself in psychiatric hospital with a kind man trying to talk to me but all I did was stare at the ground and no words would escape my lips. I eventually asked to go to the bathroom, looked in the mirror and a sinister reflection I did not recognize smiled back at me. I went back into the hallway, leaned over towards the girl and whispered ‘just tell them he was a child molester and they will let us go’.

I remember waking up a few times throughout the night and every time I fell back asleep I would find myself thrown back into the nightmare at different parts. I woke up Friday feeling as though I hadn’t slept at all.

Suddenly I could here T’s voice–do you want to stop?, are you okay?, you seem really far away, what do you want to do?. ‘Sorry‘ was all that I could say to him. ‘Where were you?‘ he wanted to know, so I told him about the nightmare.

I don’t remember anything he said to me but I remember I eventually started to cry. I hate crying in front of people so I promptly asked to leave the session (we only had a few minutes left anyways). As I was walking out of his office I got the sensation that I had lost almost an entire session.

Later that night I sent him a text. I told him I felt like the session was not a good one for me. I felt like all I’d been left with was a couple of sentences and being so far away that I couldn’t remember much of what he’d said at all. I wasn’t even sure if we’d finished my journal or not. It felt like we both sort of ended up stuck in a place my mind decided to go where I could only understand a few things that were happening. I told him that afterwards I felt different somehow and that it felt hard, that feeling of differentness. In the end I just felt like I was a shell, nothing more.

He hasn’t answered me–probably because I told him he didn’t have to–but I sort of wish he would.

I feel like I’ve fallen flat the last few days. I don’t know if it’s the nightmare or if I’m still sort of coming and going from a dissociated state of nothingness that’s been carried along with me since Friday. I don’t want to do anything. I don’t care. Yesterday, I wanted to take all of my meds and promptly throw them in the garbage because I was tired of taking them and feeling like all they did was make me fatter and fatter. And today, I’m sort of back to feeling like T doesn’t even really exist anymore.

If things don’t settle, I might send another text tonight. Until then, I think I’ll take a nap because I don’t feel productive at all today. Maybe sleep will be the magical cure I need.