15th
In Treatment - I
My therapist constantly pressures me to write down my thoughts. I have 4 journals I write in. I was looking at them this week *I think the oldest I have goes back to 2004; their might be more in Miami (unlikely), but that’s the oldest entry.
It’s interesting because I read a quote today that said “life isn’t about finding who you are, but creating who you are”. Sometimes so much goes through my mind that I forget that I’m not searching for some divine answer on how to act within myself, but trying to create the best version of me from the fractured pieces I have. *flair for drama much.
My point is that in all my journals (I’m even analyzing my own reading, that’s when you know I’m insane) I have this yearning to find answers for my crazy thoughts. I can blame it on the bi-polar or on my childhood *but how cliche is that*, but maybe I’ve been misguided and need to focus on creating what I want of myself. This is interesting because I feel like somehow I’ve been given (kismet) clues that this is what my approach should be… Oy vey for my over intellectualization. I laugh because at this point my therapist really get that I get stuck inside my head.
I had this moment where I told her how many lows I had lately and how much I feel I have to pretend and how I’ve been waking up in a pool of blood (I have ovary issueZ) and how it’s led me to some inappropriate coping behavior (cutting) and it was funny because I told her that I’ve also been trying to have fun and be all upbeat, but how it was wearing me out. And then she said something and I realized that I had started to stop actually talking to her and was talking to the ceiling in almost this weird and odd open monologue/dialogue with myself. She like snapped me back down and was like “stop. this is what I’m talking about.” It was interesting because she sees it.
Therapy sounds so bourgeoisie and cliche. My shrink, my analyst, my therapist, my psychologist, blah blah. But honestly - and maybe you have to know me. know me now and know me who I was when I first moved here, and who i was before - it has really helped. Maybe just in helping me sort of reformat how i deal with and how i perceive life, avoiding the harsh crashes - like the one that led to the infamous bathtub debacles last fall -.
It’s nice to be able to talk to someone that you know won’t judge you (or maybe they will in a way you need to judge) and tell you when you’re right and when you’re a bit misguided (i got some of that today). However, since I started going to therapy the best advice I have gotten came today. First, she kept pushing using writing and journaling as a release tool, as opposed to intellectualizing feelings (which manifests itself in my complaining) and then feeling guilty for that. Then, she said all these things about how I make sense and that I’m missing validation because my dad is the nutcase he is and how it makes sense that I am who I am and that all this rage I feel is okay. That it is okay to have all these feelings of wanting revenge or wanting the people that hurt me to feel the same hurt. How that rage is a “Breakthrough” and is a step from over analyzing my feelings and finally just dealing with them.
“It’s okay to be angry and mad and rage filled and sad”. It was funny, it made me think she was telling me or giving me permission to commit a crime, but I guess it made me realize that I am allowed to feel and to be wrong and to be angry (maybe even very angry) and not have to apologize for it). Well until she said she wanted me to write about it. Maybe I’ll end up with a brainstorm for a novel a la American Psycho. Who knows?
I guess you’re not supposed to discuss therapy, but since I’m supposed to write about it and no one really reads this, I figure what better alternative than to sit on my bed and get distracted by entries in my journal I wrote after bitter break ups (or whatever you want to call it) and entries written while under the influence.
