We have to hold fast.
The thing about a long-distance relationship is how you can feel so close to someone because you can talk all the time, but when there’s some blip, someone doing something or being some way out of the ordinary…it feels like that ripple becomes a tsunami once it reaches you. And then, you feel so unsure, so alone as though the whole concept of a relationship is something you just arbitrarily made up.
It cannot possibly have been a week since the last long post. I don’t know if I want to unpack all the details, all the
I did want to record more of my final session with the therapist wherein, although I was not irritated about this, I basically paid $40.00 copay to say goodbye. And also to affirm that I’m a pretty great person – at least in my therapist’s eyes – and I am trying to hang on to the kindness she directed toward me without converting it into slight suspicion. Especially since we’re never going to see one another again. She called me a treasure and said something I said in session helped her make the decision to make this leap of faith and I felt very proud of that. Even detailing what was going on with these two guys and the situations I’m finding myself in, even the skybridge fiascoes, it felt more like telling a friend – a friend with handouts on coping with phobic behaviors, but nevertheless, a friend.
She also gave me the name of a colleague if I wanted to continue therapy with someone else. It’s a man, which I find interesting more than I find it scary just because I really do trust the therapeutic process so much to help me. And I’ve learned what is helpful for me in therapy, and that’s not to have a therapist who is an older woman because I contort and shape-shift to please and I found that much less of a need for me this time around. I am interested and curious as to what a male therapist would draw out of me, but for now, it’s a financial luxury I can’t indulge in.
J. and I stumble around and forward and backward. We do things and I’m unaware exactly of how he’s feeling so I start up the next morning, not so much with a chip on my shoulder, just a shadow of a worry of a concern. Mostly that he’s gone of me or, far less likely, I’ve gone off him. And we talk and watch dumb things and we’re present again, connected, and he’ll say something and I’ll be reassured about all of it.
It’s still so nebulous when…there’s no statements between us announcing “6 months ahead, let’s make a trip to see one another!” or any other verbal impulse – should I be saying that? No, I don’t have any money to do that. Still, I think about doing it. I think about it a lot.
Right now, I’m reassured and wanting more and it is so strange yet to have a sort of comfort about this thing’s ebbs and flows and how far the tide is like to rise and I know things will change, but somewhere he’s sleeping and I feel somehow better knowing this?
Pushing forward in this week to make some room for other things.