Yesterday’s session was rough.
Not because anything went wrong or there was tension or rupture. It was just one of those days where everything felt off. I had a difficult morning and afternoon at school. Very busy, very interactive. Very triggering. Then my professor stopped me after class to chat, putting me behind schedule and (of course) the trains were all wonky, so I had to take a different route than normal and although I ran to the therapist’s office, I was still late.
Which left me in this incredibly vulnerable/agitated space before I even opened my mouth to speak. Then, once I did, my voice sounded foreign and odd to me which only made me more agitated and nervous. I felt spaced out. “Floaty” is the word I think I used. I told the therapist I wanted to crawl up the walls to the ceiling. She said that wasn’t particularly surprising to her.
I can’t remember much of what we talked about. I do remember that she asked me if there was anything “pressing” that I wanted to discuss. I remember thinking that was a great question because it seemed like she was trying to open up space for difficult subjects. So she’s listening to me. She’s acknowledging my needs and trying to find a way to meet them.
But there wasn’t anything pressing. There wasn’t anything at all. I felt blank.
Things I Learned In Therapy 