Although a haven’t had a bad week, I’ve really struggled to get through this week and have been at a loss as to why.
We discussed in our session this Friday whether I wanted to be pushed more; whether it would be productive. Six months ago I would have said yes, I need it; I want it. Now I said I’m not sure that I’m ready to be pushed further or faster than I am. I’m not sure whether it would be beneficial or whether it just wouldn’t work.
I have felt increasingly that we’re circling around some sort of black hole, sitting on the event horizon and not daring to go in because I don’t know what’s in there. It wasn’t until I had a repeat dream from years back when I arrive in a new apartment, with my children and have to start all over again with blank walls and my life in boxes with 1sis saying “it’s not so bad really” and I woke up in fright and panic, that I realised how afraid I really am of delving into this hole. I don’t know what is in there. I really don’t know what I’m scared of.
In addition I feel that I have reached a good plateau at the moment. I have a good bunch of friends. If ever I feel lonely I can visit many on twitter if not in real life. I don’t feel as isolated from people as I used to. Work is going well; it’s not entirely a living but I’m comfortable with where I am for the moment. I have a therapist in place for 2son so feel that is on the move. House is fine; finances are fine. We’re not managing big holidays but we’ve had two short breaks and are thinking of others over the summer. I get depressed a lot less. Life is a lot better than it was five years ago.
While all this is good it also makes me more reluctant to move on to this next part of counselling where I need to cry and talk about painful stuff and say the things I’ve haven’t found my way into. I realise all this will just knock me off the safe place that I feel I’ve temporarily arrived at and I’ll be clinging on again. But I need to open myself up if I’m ever going to achieve feeling safe permanently.
Counselling feels to me like peeling an onion, just to mix my metaphors. You peel off the layers one by one and each one is harder than the last. I now feel as if I’ve got to a layer of concrete and am worrying away at it with a teaspoon, not sure of the technique or what’s on the other side of the concrete.
I don’t think I have any deep dark secrets that I’ve suppressed so much that I’ve forgotten about them. There are plenty of things that I don’t want to talk about, but I think I know what they are. I just can’t bring myself to make the plunge.
I’ve come close to tears in my sessions but always held back. I’m not worried about my counsellor, how he’s going to react or anything to do with him. I feel as safe in my session as I can feel anywhere at the moment. The only safer place is in bed, on my own, late at night in peace. I suppose I just don’t want to let go in front of someone else. I’ve always done most of my crying alone, without anyone to comfort me or even just to acknowledge the pain. It’s something I do in isolation because I’ve never had anyone to share the pain with.