Despite all of my insistence that I not go to my scheduled therapy session today, I ended up going after all. I was late, since I forgot to set an alarm, but I was there.
Ultimately, I realized that even though my sessions will end up close together, it’s still only one per week. So, financially, it’s not any extra expense. Additionally, the more I pondered it, the more I realized that considering the recent drama that has unfolded, now is probably a good a time as any to have sessions relatively close together. I certainly have a lot to talk about.
And talk I did.
I explained what happened in regards to the death of a family friend. I gave her some background on who this person was to me and then relayed the whole story of how my brother contacting my cousin who contacted me, etc etc. I told her that I eventually decided to text him (from a burner number), but he never reached back out anyway. I shared my thoughts on that nonsense and also about how trapped and isolated I felt because everyone around me was insisting that I NOT reach out or travel to go to this woman’s funeral, when there was definitely an important part of me that wanted to be there.
I think I knew all along that I wouldn’t go. The timing is all wrong. Winter is a terrible time for travel in the Northeast, We need to watch our spending. I have finals coming up. I admittedly haven’t been doing so hot overall since Zooey dumped me. It really would have been quite irresponsible to take that trip. I knew that. I just needed people to let me make that decision for my damn self.
So after talking and talking and talking for about 40 minutes straight, she pseudo-interrupted. I’d started the session by stating that it had been a rather terrible 10 days since we last saw each other. I think she wanted to give me space and time to mention anything else that may have happened during that time. I didn’t really want to get into other stuff in this particular session, but I appreciate her gesture.
But then she brought up the twice-weekly sessions. Again. She said that she really wants us to consider increasing session frequency because it seems like I’m trying to carry and contain an awful lot of stuff alone and she’d like to see me start to figure out a way to build trust so that I can allow the therapy to be a place to contain some of this crap.
I don’t know what came over me. Just the way she phrased it was overwhelming to me. Trust?! Ha! Yeah, right. Allowing her and the therapeutic process to help contain all of this horrible crap I carry around with me every day? Yeah, right. I tried that. I let someone in. I let her create a space where I felt safe and vulnerable. I let her sit with me and bear witness to my truth and my story. And then she left me, alone, with nothing and no one to take her place. I couldn’t help but just cry over the absolute heartbreak I continue to feel over Zooey’s betrayal.
How the hell am I supposed to ever trust someone like that again? Or at all, for that matter?
I didn’t say much after the crying, but I did ask what this was about – did I talk too much? Too fast? Too intensely? She insisted that I’d done nothing wrong and that this was something she commonly did in her practice when she feels people could use more support, but I didn’t believe her. All I heard was “you are too much”…which brought me right back to Zooey’s office and being told that I was too much and she “wasn’t enough to help me”. How long before this lady starts thinking the same exact thing?!
Then there’s the financial piece. With Wife no longer on the road to acquiring a new position, we can barely afford to keep forking out the cash for sessions once a week. So even the part of me that wishes so much for more time to share and unload some of this burden knows better than that. It’s just not feasible right now. So then there were tears over that. The disappointment, the worry, the guilt.
This therapist is a good therapist. She is very skilled at what she does and I do feel quite contained when I’m in her office. I want to believe that this could work out for me and she wouldn’t hurt me the same way Zooey did. But the truth is? I have absolutely no way of knowing whether that is true or not. Nor does she.
And that is just unbearable.