I went to therapy this morning as previously mentioned. I don’t know why it was hard, but it was. To talk about Mr. Confusion and my moment of brief connection, to reckon with it. She was over the moon for me that I did it. She said three hours was an excellent length of time for a coffee date. She said I was trying to demand things of myself based on expectations I was putting on him that he had no knowledge of. She said that she was trying to point out and poke at some of the things I tell myself, see how logical they are. Or aren’t, mainly. I mumbled and dithered and finally found myself drawing up the feeling that I’m sure I’ve mentioned here…that I think it’s down to body issues. How I can’t really handle or absorb people’s responding to me in that regard. That I had all those nice Facebook likes and it felt like I couldn’t even accept or process their positive opinions of me. Then she said, that she had her own body issues, but she was just thinking how nice I looked in this dress with my new hair color. That she was a bit jealous of me which I can honestly say nobody in my whole life has ever said anything like that. Even the check-in lady commented on how nice I looked and I wish, I wish I could feel complimented, buoyed, lifted up by those words.
And mostly, I think, fuuuuuck, I find that hugely uncomfortable. Like someone’s leading you out on a ledge just to push you off. it almost, actually, hurts. I turned my head away which she noticed.
There’s more to say, but my assignment at first was to find someone else to go out on date with in the next month which I must have made some unholy facial expression because that got downgraded to just emailing a couple dudes which still feels like UGH, I don’t want to do that. But she’s right. It’s the same with my assignment to drive to work three out of five days every week. Hate it, but I’m going to try and do it.
The group was less helpful, unfortunately. I think I am in a different place than most of the folks who were there – probably fifteen or so of us. Most of it was stuff I’m working on, deep breathing, what are the causes of anxiety, taking a few minutes a day to practice, just general good information and instead, I sort of found myself seeking around the room, feeling everyone’s silent, self-contained energy and pain. I wonder if that’s going to be healthy for me. At any rate, I did it. Didn’t die.
Other positive things happened, but the best thing for me, right now is to just stop all of this and get writing.