When The Container Isn’t Big Enough: How Much Therapy Do You Need?

rubberbandsandchewinggum25 Comments

I’ve been struggling a lot with therapy, lately… Actually, no, that’s not quite right -therapy is fine, good, really good (when I am there!)… but what isn’t so good is the *time between sessions* and the shitstorm that can (and does) blow up in the gaps between seeing Elle.

My system seems to be perpetually activated these days, and I find it thoroughly exhausting and stressful navigating the nightmares (usually with Elle in), the intense panic, and the heightened fear of being left or abandoned that escalates in intensity as the week goes on.

There’s always the huge separation anxiety that builds and builds during the week before triggering the protectors at the weekend which sends me through a whole other set of loops. I don’t know what’s worse, the small parts sad, lost, and crying or the angry protectors wanting to burn everything to the ground.

Like today, Monday, I feel like I just want to quit therapy altogether because this emotional cycle feels so painful and too hard. I feel thoroughly disconnected from Elle and the idea of even going tomorrow feels impossible because my mind has convinced me that I am set for rejection and that there is no solid base or relationship and so I am wasting my time.

The sensible thing would be to reach out and tell her that this is happening but what’s the point? (Is that the teen? Probably).

I will go because I know that I need to, but pushing through the wall of protectors to even get there means that there will there will be consequences. I will struggle to sleep tonight, mind you my sleep is appalling anyway so I guess that’s nothing new. When it feels bad like this, there is always a total and absolute physical terror in my body. Sometimes it’s just on the day of the session, but today it’s really live, too, and I feel horrible.

To get to my session I have about a ten minute walk across town from where I park my car, and the whole time my heart races, I feel physically sick, and my mouth is dry even though parts of me are desperate to see Elle…it’s honestly fucking horrific. When I am waiting for Elle to come and get me, I feel completely terrified and like I will burst into tears and often my body trembles. It’s so hard. My entire system is in chaos at that point – and yet you’d never know. Externally I appear completely fine – but that comes from years of hiding how I am really feeling in order to survive in the world.

Let’s be clear, this hellscape isn’t because of anything that Elle is or isn’t doing – like there’s no suggestion that she’s suddenly going to end, or leave, or suddenly be horrible and attacking and do something to hurt me (I need to make a big sign with this on!) – it is simply because my system has been triggered off its tits after what happened with Anita and Em. Because of what’s happened with them I can’t get a sense of feeling safe or ok in myself at all – let alone safe with Elle when I am not with her – and of course I am not with her for quite a few days at a time. I know it’s only a week between sessions, but my system just doesn’t cope at all – it’s too long.

Part of the problem is that I struggle a lot with ‘forgetting’ Elle between sessions even though we have a reasonable amount of contact during the week. When I finally see her after a week it can feel like I don’t really know who she is, or whether she’s safe, or… basically it’s the object constancy stuff isn’t it?! Not only that, even if I can hold onto Elle as someone who is safe there is the constant worry that she might change…I think probably we need to do some work with the scared parts so they understand she isn’t Anita or Em…teens particularly just see her as ‘therapist’ and therapists cannot be trusted.

Because of all this, it can take me quite a while to settle into the session because I feel like I am doing my fifty-point check to assess where we are at. Thankfully, generally speaking, when I am actually with Elle it feels fine – especially now that she sits on the sofa beside me rather than in the chair across the room. This, at least, removes the need for any additional mental gymnastics about whether or not she feels disgusted by me and wants to keep her distance which of course are all part of the internal narrative that gets super loud during the week.

I am really glad that we do a ninety-minute session because it can take a good half an hour to relax into the space when I have got myself so worked up (I have no idea how I used to cope with 50 minute sessions with Em- oh of course, I didn’t cope at all!!!) .

It obviously takes a while to trust that the person in the room with me is the same one that I saw last week (and for the previous fourteen months) and that nothing has changed – because therapists do change and drop unexpected bombs (mentioning no names!). I guess to the protector parts it’s important not to remove my armour prematurely in case I get an unexpected grenade launched at me – you know the type that rolls and lands just under my ribcage and stops just where my heart lies – Boom! It’s happened before and I really hope it doesn’t happen again.

If False Adult doesn’t take my session, then it’s all good. At least in the session it feels safe and connected. But no matter who turns up to the session, I feel like when I leave, I almost instantly fall into a panic, not because anything is especially wrong in that immediate moment, but more because I know what’s coming. I only see Elle once a week despite us having a really decent length session (and I really know that I am so lucky to have that), by the time it gets to Friday it’s really not great inside. The wheels on my mini-bus have pretty much fallen off and all the littles have unclipped their seat belts and someone has to take charge – and that’s the dream team of protectors. It’s awful.

Basically, by Friday, my ability to hang it together feels massively reduced and the days until I next see Elle seem to stretch out endlessly. I feel like I am always stretching that bit too far between our sessions and so never really feel properly settled/safe. It feels a bit like a fuck tonne of water is building up behind the emotional dam but the release valve is never activated early enough and so there’s always going to be a flood – despite the high-tech flood management system I have in place.

I am really conscious of not being ‘too needy’ or ‘too much’ or ‘too dependent’ and I really don’t want to run the risk of burning Elle out or, probably more apt for this metaphor, drowning her! So, what do you do when the container isn’t big enough to hold everything from week to week?…or rather, what do I do when I seem to be too much for the container I’ve got?

I have no fucking idea.

It feels like an impossible bind. I don’t want to stop the therapy because actually what all this is telling me is that I need more therapy at the moment, not less…but making what there is ‘enough’ is a challenge especially when I am already exploiting every self-care strategy I have available to me. I don’t just sit and mope about in the week (well, perhaps I did a bit this weekend!) and still this stuff is activated in the biggest way.

I guess part of it is that it feels like there is never quite enough time to get through all the things that I need to talk about or that need space and attention. For example, it might be that we do some really great work on big important stuff. Last week we spoke at length about Anita (which stirred a lot up on its own), but because of this, the young parts that need a degree of reassurance and a different kind of interaction weren’t attended to (even though I was leaning against Elle the entire time and she held my hand…ugh…make my Brian function better please!) and that has unleashed carnage inside this week!

Whereas the week before last, I was in a right fucking mess and so we read a lovely story and had a really calm, nurturing session. It was absolutely what I needed, but then there was all sorts of adult stuff that didn’t get space that really could have done with some time, too. Neglecting adult is far less problematic than neglecting the little parts – and it’s not even neglecting, it’s simply time – but it all needs space and time and there just isn’t enough…even with ninety minutes (talk faster and get to the point sooner, eh?!).

So this is why there is always too much building up behind the dam wall… then throw in the hideous attachment shit on top and frankly, I’m fucked.

This would be a really useful conversation to have with Elle, wouldn’t it? But the problem is, I can’t see a solution to my problem. Elle only works face-to-face two days a week and is always busy. So, what I think would help (i.e another session) and what is actually possible just doesn’t align at the moment and so I have to keep trying to make this work as it is.

The feelings of shame are huge right now. I am so sick of being like this. I hate that I seem to need so much more fucking input and care than everyone else. Like, part of me gets there’s been a lot of trauma and then all the more recent shit on top with therapy going wrong really hasn’t helped…but still. Like why can’t I just be relatively fucking normal and behave like a fucking adult and be bloody fine on a session a week. Why do I seem to spend my life in the fucking hole? Like this week I feel like I have got my legs dangling over the edge of another trapdoor and rather than edging away from it, the protectors want me to jump in the next dark pit.

Ugh…

I used to see Em and Anita on Mondays and Fridays and that spacing felt really good. Like there was enough time between the sessions to process whatever was going on, but there wasn’t too much time until the next session for things to get too much or go too wrong.

I feel a bit like a toddler that’s learning to walk. I can do quite a few steps on my own but by Friday I need a hand to hold for a minute to stop me falling on my arse before I can carry on again. But there is no hand on Friday and so I find that I fall down and it is pretty painful over the weekends.

Every now and then when things are hard, I have asked about seeing Elle for an extra session on the Wednesday but she is always booked up. To be honest, Wednesday probably wouldn’t really help with this problem long-term, as it’s the longer time between sessions that is the issue and this would still leave a big gap the other side.

Elle has offered to so a Zoom session on a Friday before – but I have a feeling (given my online therapy track record) that this might actually make things worse. When I am struggling with distance and connection seeing Elle through a screen rather than in person would likely only intensify the feeling of being far apart and left and lost and all the other shit. Perhaps I need to suggest it here and there, though, because I don’t think I can do many more weeks like this one and perhaps I am only basing my expectations of what online sessions were like with Em and Anita.

This weekend has been terrible. I’ve felt so tired and overwhelmed but I couldn’t seem to rest or sleep because it’s felt like all the little parts of me are crying. There is no soothing that. And I have really tried. I get that this week has probably felt harder because Elle and I properly ventured into the Anita territory in the session and of course that would send seismic waves through my system because there is such a lot of pain there that needs to be looked at. The saga is ongoing with A and it’s just so upsetting.

It feels really difficult. Like I know when I avoid the ‘big’ stuff I am much better equipped to manage the week between sessions. The thing is, I am in therapy to work through this ‘big’ stuff and it feels really helpful to look at it with Elle. I can’t avoid it for much longer because it has a way of catching up with me, anyway. I don’t really know what to do though, because the moment we go there the whole fucking place is underwater as a result. I’m equipped to deal with high tide but this is a fucking tsunami heading my way.

I have no idea what to do. Maybe I should write more? Try and process more that way? Although that doesn’t solve any of the internal panic about Elle, does it? The more we look at Anita and Em the more wobbly I am going to feel about Elle.

I just don’t know. what to do.

What I do know is that this level of activation and upset is crazy-making and exhausting and scary because when this stuff isn’t contained enough I know that I am much harder work, more demanding, more likely to end up in rupture territory because everything is out of control inside…and you don’t have to go too far down the path to see where this can lead. I don’t want to be difficult or create a dynamic where Elle dreads seeing me… I just wish I had a different brain and the ability to make one session and a week between enough!

Right, that’s enough of that… I don’t think there’s much more I can say tbh. Does anyone have any ideas to help with symbolically increasing the capacity of my container??…Any ideas that don’t actually involve me having to bring this to Elle and see me die in a big pit of shame and embarrassment would be lovely! 😉

I get that at some point I am going to have to bring this up because I know the longer I don’t the worse it’s going to get… ffs! HELP!!

Mental Health Crash: Stuck In The Hole

rubberbandsandchewinggum10 Comments

Well, shit, I have been stuck deep down in the emotional black hole this last week (again). Tbh, I am always in the hole somewhere, it’s just distinguishing in which part of it and at what depth of it I am located. Sounds cryptic but it’s not really. You see my ‘hole’ (not a euphemism so stop that!) has a very particular quality to it– it’s like a bloody endless underground cave system these days rather than an open pit! Awesome. What a gift long-term and enduring mental health issues are!

I imagine a lot of people when they hit the skids with their mental health probably feel like they tumble and fall into a dark hole. These pits all look slightly different – we all have our own personal holes that come with our own specific and individual décor! It would make for a really great issue of an interior design/mental health magazine if people submitted plans and images of their nightmare hell zones wouldn’t it?…  

Anyway…

When we fall in, I guess it’s common to get stuck at the bottom for a bit, feel pretty hopeless and alone, and then try and scrabble our way back up and out to ground level when we feel able to – maybe with the help of someone else. Assistance can certainly expediate things but unfortunately a by-product of landing face first in the hole is that we often don’t believe there is anyone else who can see us or help us. And even if there is, there is a very real fear that we may inadvertently end up dragging that person into the hole with us, and if/when we do manage to get out together, they’ll leave/abandon us because they’ll be so horrified by what they witness in that hole alongside us. (It happens, sadly).

The hole is a bit like ‘Fight Club’. You do not talk about the hole. What happens in the hole stays in the hole. Because even though the hole itself is fucking terrifying enough on its own – how we behave in the hole can also be problematic. It can be a place where we fall into self-harming behaviours, self-neglect, and addiction to name but a few issues – and let’s keep that shit secret! Well, that’s what our shame would tell us, anyway.

We are not always our best-selves down in the hole – we’re simply trying to survive using whatever tools we have available to us in the moment and, honestly, even after years of therapy, my go-to self-care strategies often feel completely out of reach when I am suffering in the depths. It’s amazing how quickly I can slip into negative coping strategies just like a comfy pair of slippers…only, actually, these ones are full of thorns and hurt every time I move!

The goal, then, when you find yourself stuck in this cess pit of doom is to get the fuck out of the trench as quickly as you can. Of course, that’s much easier said than done. There can be a lot of slipping, sliding, and stumbling on the way back up because the way out isn’t easy and it’s fucking exhausting work trying to drag your dead weight back to relative normality.

I really feel like the struggle isn’t understood or appreciated enough, and I think sometimes people make the assumption that we must like being down in the hole, or that we are deliberately careless because we keep tumbling in and spend such a lot of time in there. It’s hard enough when friends and family might hint at this sort of thing but it’s especially awful and shaming when therapists comment on how “stuck” you are and that maybe you’re not trying hard enough to get out… FUCK OFF!! (I’d forgotten about this until now, and so that’s just given me the rage when I am already in a rage!!!)

Of course, if and when you successfully make it out the hole, it’s super important to try and be mindful going forward. I really try and scan the path ahead. I’m constantly trying to spot any future holes so that I can try sidestep them should any come into view – but we all know it isn’t that simple! My life has been riddled with concealed hole entrances and at times it can feel like an endless landscape of craters waiting for me rather than solid ground. It’s inevitable that I will, at intervals, be unlucky and end up in the dark…and actually, I have been consistently feeling my way through the dark for almost two years now and so it’s hard to imagine what it’s like not being in the hole.

So, what’s my hole like? (stop it!) Well, I suppose my hole isn’t really a hole at all, rather it’s a series of holes or dark rooms stacked on top of another linked by unseen trapdoors going deep into the depths of the earth. The further down we go, the spaces stop being dark rooms with manmade walls and instead become cold, dark, damp caves almost like prison cells buried deep into rock. I’ve spoken about falling through endless trapdoors before, and this analogy far better fits my experience of being in the dark depths for me than in a singular sticky shit hole.

So how do I end up in this place?

Imagine being at ground level, wandering along the street, minding your own business, living your day-to-day as best you can, occasionally getting your foot stuck in a puddle that actually turns out to be a pot hole, twisting your ankle, but generally maintaining momentum and keeping in touch with the world and people around you. You’re functional even if you have a bit of a limp. You can usually feel the sunlight on your skin – well, more likely it’s a dark and cloudy day, but you at least have sense that it is daytime – it’s ‘good enough’. Life above ground isn’t perfect by any means but it isn’t terrible, either.

Then imagine, unexpectedly, falling down an open hole – you know, like how pubs have cellar trapdoors outside in the street? Well, that first fall down into the dark is bloody shocking and painful and you want to scream “OUCH!” but generally it doesn’t take too long to assess the situation and start looking for a way out. You brush yourself off, check for any broken bones, and start shouting up to the world above “HELP ME!!!” because you can very clearly see the sky and the people walking along outside and you believe that there is a way out. You’re probably only 12 feet below ground at this point and a return to the world above is completely possible.

The problems really start to come when you repeatedly fall down the hole. Bones break. Bruises never quite seem to heal before you fall again. Fatigue kicks in from the endless effort of trying to escape. It gets harder and harder to crawl back out the more times you fall. At times it can feel completely pointless even trying as you know it’s only going to be a matter of time until you’re back in the dark and honestly, I feel like maybe I should just accept that the hole is where I actually belong and make the best of it.  

Sometimes, there’s a complicating factor – especially for those of us with childhood trauma and relational injuries. I can be doing absolutely everything right. I’m checking every step I take and can be wandering along quite happily and then some fucker (who I really trust) deliberately pushes me down into the hole and runs off! I mean that’s just fucking horrific.

That’s where I am now. Only, it’s worse than that because I wasn’t at ground level to begin with when I got pushed. I had Anita in a mid-level hole with me having worked our way up through quite a few levels after Em had done a fab job at leaving me for dead down in the depths in 2020. Anita was holding my hand and it felt like we were successfully navigating our way through the dark…and then she decided to leave me, but not just leave me on level -5 of the hole, she forcefully pushed me down through another trapdoor.

As I have fallen, I have kind of rolled and rolled and unfortunately found more and more trapdoors. I’ve passed the place where Em left me and have kept tumbling and tumbling. Surely, I must be pretty close to rock bottom now. There simply can’t be any more trapdoors to fall through, can there?

The saddest thing about all this is that it isn’t just adult me in the hole. I could cope with that. But there are all the child parts too – and they are so scared. Every single one of them is terrified of the dark and it is totally pitch black. There’s not even the tiniest bit of light where we are. It’s like their worst nightmares playing out in waking time and as much as I try, I don’t always have to ability to contain them all. No matter how I try to reassure them and say we are safe and that it will be ok, it just doesn’t land…because I am not sure I really believe that either, now.

To say that it’s really not nice in the cave/pit/hole would be a huge understatement. My brain can attack me/us with some pretty shit messages about being “a burden” and “unlovable” and “too much” or “not enough” – the list is literally fucking endless…! If you’re reading this, then you’ve probably been there. You know the drill. Basically, you’re stuck in the dark with a sound system that only plays your Inner Critic’s hit list on full volume and on repeat the whole time you’re down there.

Just glorious!

I mean who doesn’t love their deepest wounds and insecurities coming at them on loop? Who wouldn’t want to be told that “you’d be better off dead” or that “no one would miss you if you were gone” and that “even your ‘friends’ only tolerate you” or that “you’re disgusting” or “pathetic” or “worthless” or a “fraud” or that you “deserve this” and “what kind of loser can’t even pay someone to stay and care?”… and then of course throw in real life soundbites from people who have really hurt you, “you’re so sensitive and defensive”, “you’re too dependent”, “your child parts are adhesive like a tick” and … well… it’s not brilliant is it? I could go on and on and on but you all know your soundtrack and will be familiar with how hearing it makes you feel. I mean it is a total immersion in the shit and shame isn’t it?

The messages of doom and isolation have never really changed much since I first found myself in my dark place back in my early teens – perhaps the messages are more insistent and louder than they were initially, and the shape and dimensions of my hole (honestly, every time I type that I am giggling like a fourteen-year-old kid!) have definitely changed. As I say, these days it’s not just a hole or cellar – it’s a much more complex subterranean structure. It’s not a dark hole with a consistent depth and bottom – I’d take that any day of the week.

Despite how crap it is, I’ve come to accept that this multi-floored/roomed/cave system is just part of my internal landscape now. I know that I can’t avoid it, it can’t be filled – there is not enough concrete in the world for that! – all I can do is tread carefully and try my best to keep feet on solid ground if I do ever make up to ground level and I will continue to put things in place for the next fall.

When I am in the dark, feeling scared and really suffering like I am now, it’s really really important to try and remember that the Inner Critic is only trying to protect me. As loud and terrifying as it is, it really doesn’t want to harm me – it’s scared too, it just doesn’t know how best to express it. Perhaps there is a little bit of comfort in knowing that all my system is ever trying to do is look after me – it just has some pretty fucked up ways of doing it.

When it is awful, like it is now, I need to trust that it is always worth taking the chance on screaming and asking for help even if I believe that no one can hear me, because there are people who care and who do want to help…and have ladders and torches… I just need to let them know where I am rather than cowering silently in the dark.

Last week, before our session, I pre-warned Elle that I was in the hole and unravelling – which felt like a big thing to do. I needed to do that, though, because False Adult is so skilled at pretending that everything is ok and denies that there even is a hole (A ‘Fight Club’ hole pro!), let alone that we may be stuck in it. As I result of letting Elle know quite how bad it feels, I’ve been hit with some huge feelings of shame and panic. I feel like I’ve dragged her down into the hole and am terrified that she, too, will freak out and run off, but not before giving me a hearty push down through another trapdoor. She’s given me absolutely no sense that this would happen…but my brain can’t help but worry.

It’s really sad that I feel this way and it hurts a lot to know that my trust is so fragile. For now, Elle and I are just sitting together, waiting for some of the painful injuries to heal a bit before trying to make a plan to find our way out of this mess. It doesn’t feel quite so cold and scary with her sitting beside me and the dark doesn’t feel quite so overwhelming when I can physically feel her holding my hand. The problems happen when I lose contact for a bit (you know, like the six days between sessions!) and can’t immediately find her…it doesn’t take long for the Critic to get back in my head and the panic to take hold.

I will write a post about why things are particularly hard right now, next time. But needless to say, it involves Anita… bleurgh.

Sending love and light (candles, torches, flares!) down into your holes. Whatever your Inner Critic may have you believe, you are not alone and you are worthy of love and care. x

A Year With Elle – Now The Fun Really Begins!

rubberbandsandchewinggum9 Comments

Well, fuck, I’ve got so far behind with this blog and everything again that it’s hard to know where to begin – such a lot has been going on, in various ways, and part of me just wants to bring you up to date by saying ‘same shit different day’ and be done with it! The ‘same shit’ being my impressive ability to live as an emotional kangaroo and trying to navigate all the mess that goes with bouncing around like that.

Things are still an absolute colossal steaming pile of shite in my everyday adult life and the last month or so has really been all about survival and wading through the general bollocks that is my existence! My son is still sick, it’s back in the full flow of term and teaching, and then last week my estranged grandmother died so it’s felt a lot just to keep my head above water.

Of course, alongside this there’s all the stuff that hides beneath the surface that’s always pulling at my ankles dragging me down – namely the crazy mental health stuff, the attachment stuff, and trying to move through all the pain from, well, all of it really…

I imagine a lot of us feel like this, but I find I am way more capable of managing my inner world when the day-to-day stuff in my actual adult life isn’t going down the toilet. If daily ‘life stress’ picks up and reaches a critical point then it starts to get super bumpy on the inside. The safety features in my internal mini-bus seem to be a bit hit and miss, and would certainly fail a MOT, when the road gets lumpy and full of pot holes. Like sometimes all the seatbelts just unclip all at the same time and then I’m completely and utterly deep in the emotional shit.

Usually, if one or two parts of my system are in a panic I can just about hold their hands, keep them safe, and remain broadly functional…but if everyone is unstrapped – including the driver (me!) then…yikes. I mean big YIKES!

Some things never change, eh?!

I guess, there are some positives to be had … maybe? I feel, these days, when my system gets triggered, I am far more able to move through it and get out the other side of the worst of it in a ‘reasonable’ time frame…whereas, back in the day I could get stuck for weeks and weeks in the emotional hell zone and be totally hijacked by my system. Now, it’s a bit like doing the hokey cokey – and having one foot in then one foot out on repeat!

I’d like to say that I know myself so well these days that I don’t get upset or triggered by ridiculous things, but that would be a total fallacy. Small things can still act like a massive wrecking ball and send me sideways. I think it’s probably this kind of thing that I struggle with most-  knowing full well that whatever is upsetting me is tiny in the big scheme of things – but my system feels like it is enormous and runs off into catastrophe canyon. I still have an impressively speedy set of runners who bolt when things feel off.

Knowing my response is sometimes like that of a toddler having a big tantrum because they can’t get ice cream evokes feelings of shame and embarrassment but it is what it is and it is all information isn’t it? I suppose, now I am far more accepting of my system no matter how it is presenting in the moment. Like today I am really aware of the needy little ones who desperately want a cuddle and to connect with Elle…and that’s fine…just hard to feel because it’s so visceral.

So, where to begin with this catch up?

I guess I should mention the fact that Elle and I made it to a year working together back in August without any serious mishaps or ruptures (go us! … although it’s the three-year mark that things generally go to shit with my therapies so let’s watch and wait!) AND immediately after this birthday/anniversary we also got through another therapy break without me completely losing my shit (I only partially lost it – small triggers and big reactions again!).

I wish I was better at keeping up-to-date with the ins and outs of my sessions because the content of it all sort of melts away pretty quickly afterwards and then I can’t remember what happened when. I guess, this might be seen as a positive – like nothing really massive and disastrous is going on and my brain can let the sessions go rather than filing into my long-term memory bank alongside ‘like a tick’ and ‘too dependent’! However, it feels more like an unwanted amnesia tbh because I lose all sense of EVERYTHING.

Elle more or less falls out of my universe altogether when I can’t physically see her and it’s tough going. The object constancy stuff is just fucking dire. I feel sorry for Elle. I don’t imagine for one second that when she first met me, she would have thought the person she sees now was in there hidden away! I think at this point she must be wondering what the fuck is wrong with me. Like I leave a session, appear completely fine, and the next minute I am freaking out and texting her, asking her if we are ok or not. It’s horrible.

I hate that I need such a lot of reassurance…but I am not really surprised given how people (therapists!) go from being ‘ok’ to ‘not ok’ in the blink of an eye. As much as Elle gives me no reason to think she’d just fuck off one day without warning – my system doesn’t trust anymore after what’s happened to me, and because I am invested in the relationship and am attached to Elle now, all this crap has gone live… I hoped it wouldn’t but it has… with alarm bells on!

This round of therapy has my brain doing something that has never really happened too much before. I don’t know if it’s dissociation or what, but I find that not only do I forget the sessions and lose Elle to a degree – but even if I can hold onto the fact that she and I exist and have a relationship, I have zero recollection of the times when I have been really vulnerable/open/honest with Elle both in the room and outside it. So, I lose her, but I guess my brain thinks that she loses me too. It’s hard to explain this…

Like sometimes I’ll email her the unfiltered version of what’s going on in my brain and when I see her, I have no sense of that big stuff being in her field of vision at all. My brain likes me to think that she has only ever experienced the capable, together person …and that is SOOOO not the case!

I wonder if it’s a protective thing? My system somehow needs to feel in control and so hides the bits that make me feel exposed when I get to session? It’s frustrating, though, because I think I waste a lot of time edging my way closer to being how it really is underneath, tentatively peeking out from behind the sofa, and Elle already knows me and all this stuff. In the moment none of that is there, though.

Isn’t it amazing what our brains do to try and stop us from feeling unbearable feelings. I think I am so sensitive to rejection and abandonment that my system is doing all it can in person to prevent that happening and sadly, it must feel like the young parts of my system are a liability and need hiding away until we figure out what is happening on the day in the session.

I can’t lie, it is incredibly difficult doing therapy in the wake of what has happened with Em, Anita, and Hannah. I think my poor system was sent spiralling off into orbit last year. The string catastrophic fails in my therapeutic relationships on top of childhood trauma have done something terrible to my onboard circuitry. Elle and I are trying to do our therapy with a busted circuit board and wiring system and we’re desperately trying to rewire as we go but it’s a challenge. If we were just dealing with childhood trauma I think we’d be ok but things are so massively complicated by the shit that has happened with therapist…what shall we call it? Shithousery??!!

The problem is when lights should be green my system shines red…and the smoke alarm feature is constantly screaming because there’s a hair or cobweb over the sensor. I can’t differentiate between true danger and a malfunction now. Sometimes Elle feels like she’s a decent enough electrician and sometimes I worry she’s just another cowboy tradesperson (this isn’t because she’s done anything to suggest that though!) and I’m about to have my tentative renovation project demolished again.

Anyway, there have been some really lovely times with Elle – the problem is – I forget! So, instead of building on something great from week to week, I instead, seem to not notice that works have been carried out already. I seem to yo-yo between False Adult and days where my armour is off. Still, there have been quite a few ‘armour off’ days over the last couple of months and I guess these are important to recognise.

You might remember a while back I was brave and told Elle that I loved her in an email (!) which was a huge deal because I’ve been guarding my little broken heart very carefully this last year knowing that it doesn’t have much hope of withstanding very much more hurt and wounding. The problem is, I feel like the only way to really heal a broken heart is to let love in (and out) but if you’re always in hiding and armoured up how can you? I guess this is where my texts and emails have been doing some heavy lifting behind the scenes.

I’d been slowly gaining some momentum here and there in my sessions … you know, one step forward three steps back, four steps forward…and so on. But in one particular session I must’ve been feeling particularly safe and connected, or unguarded. I was cuddled into Elle’s body (I know I have said it SOOOOO many times over the years but physical touch sends a clear message to my system that things are safe – I don’t have to do any guesswork at all). and a very quiet, “I love you” crept out.

Fuck!

It’s one thing typing it into a screen and hitting send (and then wiping it from your consciousness and having several days until a session) and something altogether different saying it to someone when you are right there with them and being physically held by them. And even though parts of me know how Elle feels about me BECAUSE SHE’S TOLD ME ENOUGH TIMES in various ways, I nearly cried when she replied, “I love you too”.

Like…thank fuck. No rejection there. No bristling. No change in body language. No “I’m just your therapist”. It was all just really fine. Like yep, of course there is care between us – duh! I wish I could hold onto that better. Now that I have Monty I do have a constant reminder of Elle with me and that does help a bit, but there is a little part of me that fears that Elle will change how she feels towards me if she really ‘sees me’ and that is scary.

I think it was that session- I’d been in a bit of a state (although can’t remember why) and stuck in my own personal hell until I managed to ask for her to come sit with me and have hug. She’d been gently stroking my head and it was almost time to go when she asked me to give her my arm. She took the bracelet she was wearing off and tied it around my wrist. She said it needed to be on my left wrist as it was closest to my heart … honestly, it was such a lovely gesture and I wear it all the time (although in this picture Monty was wearing it as a necklace!).

https://www.instagram.com/montys_awesome_adventures?utm_source=ig_web_button_share_sheet&igsh=ZDNlZDc0MzIxNw==

So – I may have more evidence than ever that Elle is real and we are ok enough AND YET STILL I FUCKING HAVE TO ASK WHETHER OR NOT WE ARE OK!!! – but this is because people change (Anita) and one minute you’re safe with someone and they say they care about you and love you and the next they are completely gone.

I was quite excited about getting to a year with Elle because about a month beforehand I had stumbled across something I thought she would really like and was desperate to give it to her as a gift but it really was something that needed an occasion. I wouldn’t necessarily say that gift giving is one of my primary love languages but I think in this case it was a definite expression of love. I can’t really say what the thing was here because it is sooooo niche that it would be pretty identifying. She seemed to like it, though, if an excited “holy shit, you’re kidding me!” and “this might be the most impressive thing anyone has ever got me!” is anything to go by.

I think I have probably been so cagey this year that she couldn’t really miss that this was a huge expression of care and thanks. Like so much goes on in my head but I realise I’m like an iceberg and Elle only gets to see a bit of what I show her.

And then it was summer break.

Damn!

The break itself wasn’t desperately bad. I had a lot going on with my son and as much as I missed Elle, we did have some contact whilst she was away. The morning of our first session back I must’ve been on a roll with bravery because I had text Elle and asked her if she might spray Monty with her perfume when I saw her. I had pretty much figured out that that is what she had done when she gave him to me and so decided to ask. Elle didn’t bat an eyelid and at the end of our session sprayed Monty and me and that was that.

You’d think that would be proof enough that things were really ok between us and that the little parts were acknowledged and more than welcome too… but the age-old problem of physical distance had proximity cropped up the moment I saw her and it sent me spiralling.

Breaks are hard because they are a total severing of physical connection, so when I return to the room, I am looking for evidence of what might have changed or if things are still safe. Elle did nothing wrong by sitting in her chair (because that’s her fucking chair!) the first couple of sessions back – she, after all, at that point had no clue that I read so much into where she is in relation to me and how difficult I find it to ask for her to come closer to me – especially if there’s been a break. But for me, her being across the room and behind the coffee table sent the littles into a panic.

As a result, things in the bus were getting more and more dicey, seat belts were unclipped and the terrain was getting bumpy…and we were travelling much too fast. I think when I was leaving and hugged Elle at the end of the session (like always) I hung on for a reaalllly long time because I was devastated to have missed the chance to actually be how it was and connect in that physical way during the session. I’d done a tremendous job with False Adult and it was only at the end, when I was clinging on like a baby monkey, that I think she picked up that I wasn’t ok and said something about having a really long hug the next session.

I cried on the way home and ended up texting her when I got back because my system was in freefall. I think we can just about hold it together in breaks but it puts a tremendous amount of pressure on that first session back. If that session isn’t ‘enough’ then the water that has been building up behind the dam during the break floods out. I actually feel like sometimes I could do with two sessions the week following a break in order to ensure that I feel properly reconnected.

This is what played out that day:

I feel like I can’t find you at the moment and I’m lost. I know it’s a post-break thing – because I find them really hard and the disconnect feels like a total severing of connection. It feels really bad now and scary x

She replied almost immediately with a heart and:

I feel sad hearing that because you felt very connected to me before you left the room. Let’s think about how to use the time better next week. I wasn’t joking about the hour-long hug btw…

It was a quick message between her sessions to not leave me hanging and it was enough to open up the flood gates. Now came the ‘how it really felt’ message… brace positions everyone!:

I’m really a long way off my ok place at the moment. Like, yep, my life is a complete fucking shitshow on the outside so it’s understandable, but it’s much more than that. My internal world is in meltdown and week on week it’s getting worse. I feel as though I’ve been furiously spinning plates this last year and now, I’ve just reached a point where there are several crashing to the ground all at once as I don’t have energy or capacity to keep it all going and it feels like I’m watching everything go wrong in slow motion.

I feel really far away from you – or like I can’t find you – and I get that this is me and not you, but it doesn’t make it any easier to navigate even knowing what the problem is. It feels really terrifying being in this place and it’s not just emotional – it has a massive physical quality to it, too. 

I find breaks really hard and actually I find the time between sessions hard on its own and so coming back off a break is always really hard for me. It feels like I’m starting from the very beginning and lose all sense of things being ok or safe or actually that you have any idea of who I am at all or that we have any kind of relationship- which is obviously really shit and I feel really dysregulated. I can’t really put into words how bad it feels.

I don’t suppose this is evident at all. I probably appear ok, calm, present – but I’m anything but. Inside I feel panicked and fearful and like I’m going to cry. I struggle a lot with feeling like you are far away in your chair – even though you’re not- and my brain tells me it’s because you don’t want to be near me and that it’s because I am too much and it just spirals.

Occasionally, I can find a way round it and ask you to come sit with me but I find this especially difficult if there’s a sense of being very disconnected and it will always feel like this if there’s been a break and so I need to find a way of quickly reconnecting after breaks- and actually, really, just week to week. 😞

I hate feeling like this because it totally derails me and then just getting through the usual life shit feels extra difficult. And I get that it’s a lot and it’s really hard to not get engulfed by shame. Lots of the time I am just about capable of outrunning this stuff … and then other times I get caught up and start to drown.

So, yeah… another one of ‘those’ messages that I wipe from my conscious mind.

Elle replied with some very holding messages that really soothed my system and that week we had quite a lot of contact as I limped my way through the week and into the next session where she sat with me from the very beginning and asked me if I wanted to hug.

Around that time, I wrote my last blog post about what a perfect therapy room would look like and I sent it to Elle. She seemed to like it and replied to the message and at the same time asked if it would be ok to share with her supervisees and people starting their own practice which is nice…what was less good was that she also told me that the bear I had seen in the room one day (that I had mentioned in the blog post) actually belonged to someone else and that it was still there in the room but put away – and I am guessing we don’t need to detail how that landed.

OH MY FUCKING GOD!

The runners were in full Usain Bolt mode. It was really fucking awful. Like of course I knew that’s what it would be – but ugh. Any mention of any other clients just sends my system into a full-blown meltdown. Adult me is fine (just about!) but eek – the littles just weren’t. I think it’s because I have found it sooooo hard to get anywhere near my young parts in the sessions with Elle and then I learn that actually the very things that would help she’s already doing with someone else.

Fuck my life!

I had just about gathered myself back together by the time I saw her, because of course there are other clients working out their own shit in a way that works for them and if I was a bit braver then I could too…and I swear to god, next week I am taking my bloody elephant out the fucking bag even if it kills me! (it won’t kill me).

The session after all that I walked in and she said, “I was thinking of moving the table but seeing as I’m going to sit right here with you, I haven’t, as it’s not in the way between us.” And the second clock was gone, too! And then she said she’d ordered a new couch for the room and was wanting to get a load more cushions! I don’t suppose the new couch was off the back of my blog but it felt nice that she had really listened to what I had said. She said she was really keen to get the space right for me and this felt … lovely. And the irony about that whole blog post really, is that the space doesn’t matter at all so long as I feel connected to Elle.

This is getting really long so I’ll end it here for now – but let’s just say, we’ve leapt forward quite a few steps… I guess, I just need to be myself in all my messy glory so Elle can respond to what’s there!

What Would Your Perfect Therapy Room Look Like?

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The other day I was chatting with a friend who has recently qualified as a therapist about therapy rooms. She’s about to embark on creating her own space and asked me- as a seasoned therapy goer- what I thought makes a good therapy room and wondered if I might write something that she could share with other therapists starting out.

Having sat (and dissociated!) in many different spaces over the years, I have some pretty strong opinions on what have and haven’t been the kind of environments that have felt conducive to good therapy. Here are some of the ideas I have had over the years with my other wonderfully mental friends about what we’d like to see in ‘the room’ – other than our lovely (or not so lovely) therapists of course!

I’ve seen way too many therapists (!) to talk about every room I’ve been in – although I do remember each of them clearly! (fucking Brian brain never forgets shit!) and will talk about some of the best and worst bits from some of the more recent ones here.

Something that might seem a bit weird, is that a big part of what I recall about the rooms isn’t actually visual at all. I’ve come to realise that I am quite a sensory person…and some of the things that can really bother me/make a difference are smells, sounds, and textures…! Like these things are a really big deal in addition to what I can see and how the room is laid out.

Oh but of course it would be this way, wouldn’t it?! I am, after all, the client who has her therapists spray her transitional object with their perfume or wash my stuffed elephant so it smells safe and familiar, and likes everything to be snuggly soft to touch and the lighting to be ‘just right’ and… and… and… (I could be an extra in Goldilocks And The Three Bears!).

It’s no wonder that I’m going to notice every fucking detail then is it?! Honestly, I don’t think many people or therapists have any idea about the sensory overload we can be dealing with just from being in the space, and that’s before we even get working with the human sat in front of us and all the interpersonal shit that brings up…it’s a wonder we ever get to talking about what our issues are – or maybe not – I certainly take my fucking time. Elle and I have been working together a year now and I think it’s safe to say I’ve been going at a snail’s pace after the fuck tonnes of preceding shit with therapists.

Right, let’s do this! I literally have no idea how to approach this -space by space or issue by issue…? We might bounce around a bit…just like my mind…so sorry!

I remember vividly the smell of the therapy room when I originally started working with Em in the NHS – it was that kind of hospital smell mixed with a sort of ageing decay and staleness of a space that desperately needed gutting and redecorating. The Psychotherapy Department was in a gorgeous old, stone building but one of the downsides of it was that the tiny rooms were set north facing. The windows were almost like arrow slits and didn’t open and so it was always cold, dark and kind of damp feeling.

I think over the years the brown, utilitarian, super hard-wearing carpet (that had the texture of a brillo pad) had soaked up years of grime and had that sort a pervasive musty smell. The smell became familiar but never comforting but it was not entirely offensive either.

The rest of the room was no better. Because there was no natural light, or air, we always had to have the light on – and of course being the NHS it was one of those fluorescent overhead office lights (no floor standing lamp with a soft glow here!). To add insult to sensory injury, the room was painted a lurid yellow colour – it almost looked like gloss on top of the woodchip – and was just totally jarring and seemed to not only reflect the harsh light from above but magnify it. The walls were bare and the whole room just felt sterile and devoid of life.

Like many therapy rooms I have been in, the seating was just two pretty uncomfortable chairs facing each other about two metres apart. I am lucky that I am reasonably average build but for anyone plus sized the seating would have caused real issues as the seat was narrow but had moulded high arms.

I know this two chairs facing each other is not unusual but, honestly, I find that set up really triggering for lots of reasons. I struggle to settle and feel comfortable in a therapy room and so being stuck in a narrow rigid seat is hard. I like to take my shoes off and tuck my feet up under me. And… as you all know by now, there are times when I absolutely need my therapist to sit beside me, hug me, hold my hand etc and single chairs just don’t allow for this at all.

I can’t tell you how many times I have drifted away into a painful dissociative state because I have not felt in close enough physical proximity to my therapist. Having said that, if you are a therapist who has no intention of ever getting physically close or offering that kind of reassurance to your client then stick with that set up because fuckkkk it’s painful to be on a sofa and have the therapist tell you that they’ll never sit beside you when you build up the courage to ask them to.

This is what happened to me when, a few years after finishing in the NHS, I made the catastrophic choice to go back and see Em in her private practice in her house.  Initially, she had the two-chair set up – you know the trusty Ikea ones that almost everyone has? Those chairs were more comfortable than the NHS ones but still felt distancing and I felt like I couldn’t move.

Em also had the matching footstool and would place it between us – so it felt like another barrier to being near her and like she was trying to barricade herself in. (I have lots of issues with positioning of furniture – even now with Elle!). Sometimes the feeing of disconnect and distance would make it feel like I was staring at an empty chair – like the little girl in Oliver Jeffers’ book ‘The Heart And The Bottle’ and that was really hard too.

About 18 months into the second round of therapy with Em, she changed up the room. It was better – previously she had really grim dark red curtains that weren’t quite long enough for the window, some pretty shit net curtains again that didn’t quite reach the window sill by about three inches, and odd green walls but it was ok enough. The window was behind me, so I never really had to look at the curtains or see anyone passing by in the street. Although if anyone ever came to the door to deliver something to the house I’d jump out my skin because the front door was essentially next to the window…and I couldn’t see.

The room itself was filled with lovely, reclaimed bookshelves and so I had plenty to let my eyes wander over when eye contact or even looking in Em’s general direction felt too much which was better than the sterility of the god awful NHS room.

Em’s revamped room was nicer, the shelving and books stayed and there were now neutral walls and curtains, and a much more comfortable cornflower blue leather sofa. It wasn’t very cosy, though – especially in winter! I think one of the things I would say is that Em’s room mirrored her personality type – cold and austere! A couple of cushions to hug to my body when things felt shit, or a blanket folded over the back of the sofa like Elle has, would have made it feel like there was some comfort to be had – especially as she was so anti offering anything of herself.

Another thing that was there throughout my therapy was a sick-looking spiky houseplant that was in good need of a repot and feed. Bearing in mind I saw Em for three years that poor plant never got any care and looked like it was at death’s door the whole time. Now, sure, it’s only a plant, but I think as a therapist if you are going to put plants in the room make sure they look healthy. If you can’t look after a plant, how will you care for your clients?!

The room was the room, though – and it was a marked improvement from anything I had been in before in college, university, at a local charity, and the NHS. But as I said, sensory stuff is an issue – and it was very much the case at Em’s house. Sometimes I would arrive and the lingering smell of the previous night’s cooking had made it into the therapy room – her kitchen was next to the therapy room and I think she must have been a fan of Thai Red Curry and Fish! Occasionally, the smell would be really strong and totally off-putting the moment I walked in the front door.

That’s not to say I am advocating for air-fresheners, plug-ins, or sprays or whatever else in the therapy room. I think people have quite strong preferences and reactions to smells and I’d be really cautious of trying to have any noticeable smell at all tbh. I think airing the place out is a good move, though, and the room should feel and smell clean just not strongly of anything in particular.

OMG! An aside… I remember one time (fuck me I am so fucking picky) but there was a crumpled up, used tissue under the book shelf beside Em and it was there for four weeks…

Anyway…

Back to the story!…

One of my friend’s therapists has scented candles that she asks the clients to smell when they meet and if there are any that they like they light that one for them in the future sessions and I think this is a really nice idea – as it gives the client the choice…to have something or nothing.

Photo by thevibrantmachine on Pexels.com

Another thing that would be a bit distracting/off-putting was external noise at Em’s. She seemed to like to put a load of washing on first thing on a Monday and Friday morning – I guess cashing in on her private practice wfh days – and the machine would always reach its spin cycle in my session. As I said, the kitchen was next to the therapy room and sound really travelled around the house, so it was very noticeable and not ideal. There was that, but what was worse was her husband wandering around in the hallway outside sometimes and often I could hear him chatting on the phone.

I’d like to say that other people coming and going is an unusual event in therapy but in my experience it isn’t. This has been way less of an issue with Elle because I see her in an office away from her home and so any footsteps are only from people who work in the building, but with Em and Anita I had too many uncomfortable experiences with family members.

You might remember me mentioning that when Anita’s adult daughter moved back in, she worked from home in her bedroom that was just down the hall from Anita’s therapy room. I could often hear her wandering around to go to the bathroom next to the therapy room or when she was on work calls… not good! If I could hear her, then there can be no doubt she must be able to hear me. The have been times I haven’t used my session time as I’ve wanted to knowing that I might be overheard – and that just should not happen.

It’s not just what’s going on in the house. It’s what happens when we arrive and leave, too. Do you remember the month where I met Anita’s daughter twice on the doorstep?…the second time we had a conversation whilst waiting for Anita!!… FUCK ME THAT WAS BAD!! Or the time I ran into Em’s husband as he mis-timed coming back from his bike ride?? Yeah, that was crap, too, and really unsettling especially at the end of the session which had been really difficult.

I think therapists who work from home need to be really careful about protecting their clients’ privacy and anonymity and need to have clear boundaries with the people that they live with to ensure that when they are working the family understand the importance of client confidentiality and expectations of therapy.

I feel like I am really moaning now and being critical – but this is my real experience and I’ve spent fucking thousands on therapy over the years so it’s probably worth saying!

Do I need to talk about barking dogs? Or can we just agree that this shouldn’t be a thing…particularly not three of them for half an hour at time!

Umm…what did I like about Anita’s room then if not the outside world? Lots. The room was light and airy.  She had a sofa and a chair in the room – which meant that she could always sit beside me if I wanted that. The room had stuff in it but I guess what you might call therapy stuff: rocks, crystals, shells, books…things that would/could be used as transitional objects. There was a nice picture on the wall, too. The space was clean and uncluttered but felt warm and welcoming.

She had a small fish tank in the room too and I used to like watching the fish. Although, sometimes if I was silent and/or dissociating I would become VERY aware of the sound of the filter running! But that’s probably just me. Essentially, the room had Anita’s personality in it but wasn’t personal – no family pictures or stuff like that (thank god!). It was the opposite of sterile, though. There were tissues in easy reach – although I never used them, as I would only ever cry when she was cuddling me and so she would end up with a damp top instead – lol!

If I ever went for an evening session the room was lit with a couple of salt lamps and a soft side light…at my request. I once turned up and she had the ‘big’ ceiling light on and it just felt way too bright and so instead we put on all the low lights and it felt way gentler. I think basically I am always needing to be in a space that goes softly on my nervous system.

Downsides to Anita’s room were that it was pretty small and so there was not much space to be anywhere but the couch. I quite like sitting on the floor sometimes. I like to draw, or write, or do activities with objects (like when Elle and I did the buttons) or maybe do breathing/grounding exercises and it would have been really too cramped for that and so it could feel a bit rigid being on a chair all the time.

Photo by Boris Hamer on Pexels.com

Obviously, she couldn’t make the room larger and honestly for such a long time that room was such a sanctuary and holding space that other than making it a few feet bigger, there’s not a great deal I would have changed.

I was thinking recently again about rooms before my friend asked about it and I think a really good way of approaching therapy room set ups is to imagine you have a neurodiverse child that you’re tailoring the space to because actually most people would benefit from some or all of the provisions. Lots of therapists only work with adults and so gear their room up as an adult space and I think this is a massive error.

I like that Elle’s room has fidget toys and some games on the shelves even if I choose not to use them. I think having things like paper and colouring pens visible in the room is a nice idea, too (Hannah had that – I’ll give her one positive as the rest was utter shit!) as it lets the client know there is potential for all sorts of work to be done in the room.

Photo by cottonbro studio on Pexels.com

All my recent therapists have had Russian dolls in their therapy rooms- it must be a thing! Ha – if only more of them actually entered into doing active parts work, eh?! I think having little figures or maybe a variety of toys would be a great idea for this.

A while back there was a teddy bear sitting in Elle’s therapy room one session, but I don’t know where he is now. I think one of the things I would really like to see in therapy rooms are a few soft toys. I think signalling to the client that their inner child is welcome is hugely important as so many people new to therapy have no idea what therapy can be…and soooooo many people have work to do with attachment and yet believe that it’s only ever their adult that is welcome in the room!

How nice would it be to see a friendly bear in the corner or sitting on a chair? Especially if you need a hug…and especially if the therapist is not necessarily a hugger. I can imagine how holding it would feel to be feeling vulnerable and small and a therapist asking if you’d like a bear to hold. Like what an invitation to that small part to remain in the room rather than flee. So many of us try desperately to push that part away – especially when we’re new to therapy – as we often associate those feelings as being shameful and unwelcome.

I think seeing a soft toy in the room would also let the client know that they could bring their own soft toys to session too (if that’s what they want – obviously some people would totally not want this at all!). I can’t tell you how many years I went to therapy with Elephant in my bag when I saw Em and not once did I feel brave enough to get her out … and there were times when I seriously could have done with being able to self-soothe with her soft ears as Em would never reassure me or try and get me back out of a dissociative state and would instead leave me in agony.

It would be lovely if sometimes therapists would say, “If you wanted you could bring a blanket or a teddy in – I’ve got these here and you’re very welcome to use them, but I also know sometimes we have our own special items and they are most welcome here.” Because even now – as an almost pro client I sometimes find it difficult to open the bag. Elle has not met Elephant yet – and there’s huge work around this plushie.

I mean I am edging closer – and am actually amazed that I asked Elle for Monty (transitional object) and then last week after a month brought him back and asked her to spray him with her perfume. All these things are possible, but it’s taken me YEARS to get here, and I think therapists could really help with this.

It’s not only about toys, though, is it? Ok, I’ll put my inner child to one side for a minute!

I like Elle’s room – it’s a nice size and feels containing and private. I like that her room has nods to what kind of person she is. She has a little pride flag in her pot plant (which is very much alive) and I think that this visual cue let me know immediately that I was safe with her. I know therapy school would probably say “don’t give away anything about your political beliefs or views on contentious issues” but finding out Em was a tory Brexiteer late on in our work was hideous. I would NEVER have worked with her had I have known our feelings on particular issues were so far apart and knowing Elle is an ally is really important to me.

But that’s a whole other story.

What don’t I like about Elle’s room?! I have mentioned it a few times now, but I fucking hate the coffee table that sits between us. Like I want to literally throw it to the side of the room…unless of course we are using it to do something with buttons or whatever! It’s something to do with feeling like there’s a deliberate physical barrier between us – can anyone see a recurring theme here?! I think also it stops me sitting on the floor.

I think the longer I have been in therapy the more I want to not be always stuck in a chair. Over the years, friends and I have said how nice it would be to have an area of the room that is deliberately floor based – whether that be floor cushions or beanbags – just a different kind of a space. I guess sometimes I would like to almost be in a nest! But just sitting comfortably cross-legged on a cushion would be nice, too. I think the more options there are the better as you never really know what you’re going to want or need when you go to your session.

If there was space in the room, I think it would be totally awesome to have a blackout tent with cushions and blankets and little fairy lights inside – again – think neurodiverse child need. Lol!

Elle has two clocks that seem to tick at alternate times – sometimes I can tune them out and other times they are all I can hear. I imagine most people wouldn’t even notice these things, but I have always been hypersensitive and hypervigilant and so literally EVERYTHING that goes on inside and outside the room registers with me…and it’s frankly exhausting!

There’s loads more I could say but I think I am more of less done here for today – 3500 words – yikes!

So, I’m going to undo everything I have just said in a paragraph!

Of course, the room is really important in creating an environment that feels containing and safe enough for us to open up in but, you know what? I would happily sit outside on the cold concrete in the pouring rain so long as I could sit beside Elle and be with her and talk to her. Because, you could have the absolute most perfect therapeutic space to work in but if your therapist isn’t a good fit and the relationship isn’t there – it’s a complete waste of time!

True stuff.

I’d love it if you could comment with some of your own ‘hits’ and ‘misses’ for therapy rooms as I’m sure this would help my friend a lot. There’s so many things – like drinks? Elle has water out if you want it. Some therapists do cups of tea. Some think you shouldn’t do any of this. What a frigging ridiculous minefield!

The Mother Wound…AGAIN…And Other Ramblings.

rubberbandsandchewinggum10 Comments

Last time I was here I was in a right state – I don’t think much has changed where that’s concerned tbh! My life stress has notched up several gears with BIG shit happening and I am basically surviving my current day-to-day on a cocktail of junk food and dissociation – oh and terminal doom scrolling on my phone. None of these are really ideal, but it is what it is right now, and I just need to accept I’m doing the best I can under the circumstances…and the circumstances are fucking rubbish!

It’s a shame. Earlier this year I was doing amazingly well with physical ‘self-care’. I had made a conscious effort to try and give myself a solid base to hold the crap that I was struggling with in the aftermath of all things Anita and doing pretty well. I felt like I had a reasonable handle on things even if there was a shit load to process. I kicked out the crutch of junk food from my diet. I am pretty sure I have been sugar addicted for most of my life and had been propping myself up on chocolate and coke to get by so this was a HUGE deal. And I felt so good for it.

In addition to the diet shift, I had been carving out daily space for myself that didn’t revolve around work or chores. I would take a long walk in nature every day to create more of a balance in my day. I felt healthy-ish! The emotional stuff was there, of course, but the routine of getting out alone, listening to podcasts, taking photos, and escaping the demands of life seemed to be really helpful. It felt like I opened up space to be with myself to sit (walk!) with all of what is inside…and there is a lot.

There were days where I would walk beside the river and just sob the whole time. As someone who doesn’t readily cry this felt HUGE…and cathartic. I have been struggling massively with anxiety (my whole life!) – since Anita and I ended, and it’s been really physically debilitating at times, but I think the new routine helped a bit to lessen that too. Sometimes I would be really aware of the young parts of me and allow them space to talk to me… This is all great, isn’t it? Well done RB!

As a result of the better diet and steady exercise I shifted nearly a stone in weight that had crept on over the last 18 months of what would I call it? Self-neglect? Laziness? Freeze? Importantly, none of this shift in my behaviours with food and exercise came from a negative reaction to the emotional pain.

What do I mean by that?

Well, in the past I might have gone down a similar road but the cutting out junk food would instead be ALL food… it is so easy for me to switch into restriction and basically ignite anorexia in a few short days and then I am done for. Food becomes the enemy and exercise is a weapon to punish myself with rather than something to enjoy. This is why I no longer wear a Fitbit and deleted the Strava app from my phone. Once I get data, I just beat myself with it: go further, faster, hit that target… So, it’s best not to track in the first place. But there was none of this this time. And that is AMAZING after all these years.

I am so aware of my inner processes now and so I have been conscious of managing myself. If there was even a hint of that critical voice starting up (it never fully goes away), I would just not walk that day or be very mindful about putting some extra cheese on my plate when it was saying to do just vegetables or skip a meal because I am determined never to go back to that god awful place of an eating disorder.

These days, I listen in to that critical voice just as much as the young parts and ask what it is worried about. It is so desperate to have control when life feels out of control –  it is a massive protector part – but I have been able to tell it that I’ve got this now, and we don’t need to start punishing ourselves to cope with difficult emotions and situations. I’ve put that in fucking bold because this was ‘then’ and right now feels a little different and so I need the reminder!

Needless to say, this last couple of months I have fallen off the healthy self-care wagon in a big way as the level of out of control in my life has ramped up massively. Sod the wholemeal pitta, hummus and carrot sticks and epic levels of water –  fuck it – give me the Big Macs, coke, chocolate…ALL OF IT!!! And please wrap me up in my duvet – I don’t want to fucking walk right now or use the outdoor gym!

The impact of this is – weight has gone back on, I feel sluggish and lethargic, and generally in a bad slump. It’s a bit grim tbh. But I am trying to not get down on myself because lately I’ve been frozen a lot of the time so even getting off the bed has been a challenge. I’m too strung out to go want to go out into public spaces. I even find walking the five minutes across town to see Elle each week difficult. Of course I want to see her, so I walk the route with the minimum amount of people, put my headphones on and listen to something loud so I can switch away from the hustle and bustle of people. It still takes me about twenty minutes to relax after that though which is why I am glad Elle and I do a ninety minute session. I’d be totally fucked otherwise.

Anyone that’s read this blog for a while will know that my life is basically a rolling disaster but, fuck me, this has been one hell of a month… there’s been so many times when I have wanted to write and process some of the shit that’s been happening but instead, I just sit for sometimes hours at time in a complete freeze state. I either stare at the blank laptop screen beside me on my bed…or more often than not, can’t even open the laptop and switch it on in the first place!

At the moment it’s like there’s a concrete wall between my thoughts and my ability to get anything down on the page in a coherent way. I’ve been struggling with this for a long while now – certainly since Christmas. I think it’s something to do with being so overwhelmed that I can’t sift through the sheer volume of shit enough to know where to begin – or where to go with it and so I do nothing at all.

Like today, I think there are probably four separate posts I need to write but this could end up just being one long ramble of nothing (already at 1200 words!)…because knowing how I’ve been lately I should make hay while the sun shines. Ha, well, not hay…maybe clear the decks…or walk the fucking plank!

I can’t remember if I have mentioned it here in the last few posts but one of my children has been really sick since May. We’ve been in and out of the GP and hospital trying to get answers and FINALLY a couple of weeks ago after a long slog and being ‘that’ parent who won’t go away and pushing for tests, we got an answer. Only it’s not an answer any parent wants.

My child has been diagnosed with a chronic lifelong condition and so we are currently in the thick of testing before we can begin treatment. Honestly, this summer has nearly sent me over the edge. The only saving grace is that it has been summer holidays, and I haven’t been working and so been completely free to be able to do all the hospital visits without stressing about money. Being self-employed means if I don’t work, I don’t get paid but as school is out that isn’t a problem as I don’t teach now. I have no idea how I am going to pick up all my pieces in a couple of weeks for work, though. I am so barely hanging it together as it is.

We spent yesterday in the specialist Children’s Hospital and today we have all basically crashed and burned. Why am I mentioning this? Well, it has triggered a lot of pain. Feeling powerless when your child is sick is just hideous…and scary…but it also highlights aspects of your life that might usually sit just out of sight.

Cut to the chase RB and stop being so cryptic!…let’s put it this way…the last few weeks has triggered the mother wound in a massive way and I am not really ok – it’s complicated.

I am usually so independent and self-sufficient (through necessity, not want!), but right now I really need some support…from family…and there simply isn’t any forthcoming. My mum and I no longer have a relationship which has been made painfully apparent this year. Most of the time I can cope with my absent mother – let’s be real, she has been either physically or emotionally absent (or both) my whole fucking life so there’s no change there but right now, I really need a mum (just not necessarily my mum)!

I am very aware that the mother I have is not and has never been capable of offering the kind of mothering, love, and care that I need. So, it’s not as though I have lost some significant nurturing and holding relationship with her and am now left with the gaping hole. It’s not like at all. (But that is exactly what I have been left with after Anita…fuck me this is double-whammy of mother wound pain!)

So far as the relationship with my mum goes, I am not sitting with the grief of a significant heartbreaking loss at all – instead I am having to really grieve what never was and what absolutely should have been. This has always been the work – I mean it is absolutely the foundation of all the work I do in therapy if I’m honest – but right now I am plunged face first into the pain of never really being loved and FUCK ME I could so do without it right now- I’ve got enough going on already and don’t need to be staring directly at the sun! I just need a fucking hug and someone to pick up some of the pieces but alas, because that’s not happening, I guess I am going to have to navigate this deep wounding alongside the hard life stuff in the here and now.

My relationship with my mum has only ever made me feel like I am inadequate and unlovable, or unlikeable, or too much, or not enough or…basically just like utter shit… “I wish you’d never been born!” rings so clearly in my mind – but how could it not? There have been so so many occasions where I have needed to be truly seen and loved and supported for exactly who I am and honestly – I can’t think of a time where this has happened, or that I have felt connected or loved by my mum. Even when I had cancer and she would come to my chemo appointments it felt like she was doing it to be seen by others. Maybe that’s unfair. I guess, at this point there’ve just been so many occasions that I have felt let down it’s hard to see any good.

Any of my achievements seem to have been filtered through the lens of competition – either she’s done as well or better than me, or if not that, then my achievements are used to make her look good in the eyes of others whose opinions should not matter at all. I might be a disappointing lesbian (don’t let’s ever talk about that) but I am at least academic and that gives a degree of bragging rights – to this end I am a useful extension of her. I am pretty sure no one has ever cared about my top GCSE, A Level, Degree or Masters grades…! I have never once thought “Oh wow, my friend’s kid has got A grades- that makes my friend look good” because that’s idiotic!

I have jumped through so many hoops over the years and as much as I thought I was chasing the grades and degrees because I wanted that – part of me thinks I have always been just desperately trying to be noticed and good enough for my mum. The thing is (and it’s taken a good deal of time!) I realise now that no matter what I do or don’t do in my life I can never be enough for her.

I don’t need that constant reminder in my life. I don’t need every interaction to leave me feeling exhausted and drained and generally shit about myself and that’s exactly what happens every time I see her. The familiar sense of anxiety and treading on eggshells is so real. My young parts are terrified of her. I can never be authentically myself and it exhausts me trying to perform just to please someone who can never be pleased. I’ve shoved down all the times she’s hurt me and tried to build a relationship as an adult – try and give space to the idea that people make mistakes, parenting isn’t easy, and people can change.

Only I don’t think narcissists ever really do change. Why would they? Their personality type serves them so well. They are never at fault. It’s everyone else that is the problem. I am too boring and uninteresting – I don’t add value… but there’s always a conveyor belt of new people/faces who are impressed by the show and are entertaining enough– until they’re not, or they too see behind the veil. I have stopped playing the game and so I’ve been discarded – like so many other people in her life over the years.

When I got pregnant with my daughter, I was so incredibly excited. My wife and I had gone through several failed rounds of IVF and given up on the hopes of ever having a child. Then the UK laws around donor conceived children changed and a year later we met our sperm donor, and I fell pregnant straight away. I invited my mother and her husband over for lunch to announce the news. I handed her an early scan picture we’d had done, and she said absolutely nothing. Still face. Literal silence. No “congratulations” no smiles or hugs… but after a few minutes of awkward silence she said a simple, “I’m not old enough to be a grandmother”. Reader, I was twenty nine years old!…It’s not my fault she had me in her early twenties! She didn’t even stay for lunch. She then didn’t speak to me at all for the next three months of my pregnancy.

Who does that?

I mean really, who does that?

This is just one many many interactions that have been commonplace and normalised in my relationship but from the outside … well it’s completely fucking mental isn’t it?

Anyway, back to now. It’s been almost two years since I last saw my mum in person or spoke to her. There was no significant argument to make this break happen. It was just years and years and years of steady attrition where I had got so ground down by how much energy it would take to maintain any kind of relationship with her that I decided to step back and see what happened.

I stopped making all the effort to engage her. Stopped inviting her for dinner. Stopped suggesting get-togethers. Stopped sending photos and information about the kids and keeping her up to date with our lives. Basically, I stopped holding the whole relationship up from my side and waited to see what would come from her.

The answer is nothing.

Christmas 2022 we were totally skint. I had text my mum to say we wouldn’t be doing presents for anyone but the kids that year because of this…but I did send her a £50 box of Hotel Chocolat chocolates for her and her husband – because my mum is huge on receiving gifts and makes a massive deal of it all. She always knows exactly what she wants to be given…but she’s the queen of regifting stuff she doesn’t want…

Anyway, you might think that as someone who is pretty well-off the adult child not doing loads of gifts wouldn’t be a problem and you’d carry on as normal… I mean surely we don’t give only to receive?! Wrong. That year she didn’t even send my kids a present. Imagine your grandma totally ignoring you like that when you are primary school age. She didn’t even acknowledge the chocolates I sent and in the end I ended up texting to ask if she’d even received them.

Then birthdays rolled around…ignore mine and my wife’s, sure – but the kids???

This time last year my son fell off his bike and ended up in resus at hospital. Lots of time had passed but this was a massive deal and I text my mum because you know, it’s life and death! My wife and I were in hospital with him and my daughter, who was only eleven was at home. Her reply? “Oh no. Hope he feels better soon”…

…

…

No, “Oh my god, I’ll be there in twenty minutes. What do you need me to do? Is daughter ok? Do you need me to go to her?”

But that’s EXACTLY what my friends did.

I am still in a bit of shock about it, actually. Like…what the actual fuck?

Christmas came and went again. I sent another small gift this year-  nothing came back this way, not even a text.

And so it’s been quiet.

Then out the blue a birthday card for my daughter…so I text and thanked her for it.

Then in August a card for my son…so I text and thanked her for that. But of course, my son is actually really ill and has been in and out of hospital since May. So, I briefly outlined what’s been going on and how the poor boy got his provisional diagnosis on his birthday in hospital, would have to have an MRI the next day and then up to the Children’s Hospital yesterday.

I don’t know why I imagined that she’d care. I don’t know why I thought she might, just for once, see beyond the end of her own fucking nose and care about her grandkids or me. I don’t know why I imagined, she might at the very least text to ask how he is or perhaps even ask if we needed any support/help for our daughter whilst away in another city with a sick kid…or maybe ask how I am coping… I guess because if I was furnished with that kind of information, I couldn’t help but want to help in any way that I could. I cannot imagine a world where I wouldn’t want to support my kids or grandkids. If anything, I’d be the annoying mother who was being told to back off!!

Instead, and as usual, it is my friends that have rallied around us and supported us and taken care of my daughter. I am lucky to have an amazing set of close friends – chosen family… but it doesn’t change how much this hurts. As I have said, I am not stupid and I know my mum is incapable of being anything close to the kind of parent I need…but it just feels especially wounding when she won’t even do the bare minimum when there’s a real crisis.

Still, this last couple of years has told me all I need to know and shown me what I need to do to protect myself from being hurt further. I didn’t ever imagine I’d go no contact with a parent – especially as I only have one left. But I can’t continue on like this. Being reminded of how low my kids and I feature on her list of priorities is hard. Especially when I learn from other people that she is fixated on a friend’s wedding at the moment…

Anyway, there’s loads and loads I can say about that – and how a lifetime of this kind of thing has affected me – but you’ve read this blog. You know. When it all goes wrong at a young age with your primary caregiver and that persists throughout childhood and adolescence…you’re basically fucked.

And I am.

However, as much as there is a tonne of damage done and the fear of abandonment and rejection, my hypervigilance, my attachment issues, perfectionism, dissociation…*all the things* need a load of attention and working through in therapy what I will say now is that I am no longer prepared to put myself in situations that hurt me. I am drawing boundaries around what I deem acceptable treatment, and I’d sooner walk away than give any more time to someone that clearly doesn’t give a shit.

This is also true for Anita. I know it’s different. She is not my mother – but my god, we rode close to line on that in our therapy. It was active reparenting…until it wasn’t. Anita knew everything about my history and was closer to me than anyone has ever been and yet, when it came down to it, she walked away without so much as a backward glance. She’s hurt me deeply in a way I can hardly describe. I am grieving what actually ‘was’ and the hole she’s left. I miss her care. I miss her love. But actually, you know what? It can’t have been worth all that much if this is where we are now.

I’ve spent the last 15 months trying to navigate what’s happened without completely collapsing – and that has been hard. More recently I’ve been trying to figure out how to meet and end and get my stuff returned now that she’s finally communicating with me. The thing is – after all the heartache and stress with my son what I am really aware of is that Anita isn’t there (not that she has any idea about what’s happening) and actually I am both sad and angry about that. She promised me she was here for the entire journey and instead she cut and ran, choosing ‘easy’ clients.

As I have said so many times before, I could have got my head around her giving up being a therapist altogether and stopping client work…but choosing to end with me and keep working with others feels like such a betrayal and such a complete disregard for what our relationship was.

So now, I think, I am in a place where I don’t want to meet. I don’t want to see her only to be massively disappointed and hurt. I don’t want to play the game where I go and wander around a fucking garden for a walk and talk and pretend everything is fine so that she feels like she’s absolved herself from any responsibility for what she’s done. Because it isn’t fine. It isn’t fine at all.

I need to protect myself and my system now from being hurt – because frankly there’s been just a bit too much abandonment and rejection to swallow.

This has, as suspected, just become a long ramble of shite – so … sorry about that. Hopefully Monty and I will find our flow properly soon. We’ve just had a therapy break with Elle – and you can probably imagine the fun that caused inside with so much shit hitting the fan already – so there’s certainly some words on that somewhere! It feels like an impossibly long time until Tuesday’s session right now. Ugh…

x

The Struggle Is Real

rubberbandsandchewinggum20 Comments

*not my finest hour of writing!

I think I might be having a breakdown guys…honestly, I am just so fucking sick of living in my head right now. (Tell it like it is, eh, RB?!). I actually don’t really even know where to begin because it’s just fucking whining, really – another big heap of ‘woe is me’. And frankly, who cares? No one wants to listen to this crap AGAIN. I certainly don’t!

The place I am in right now is driving me mad so why burden anyone else with this endless bullshit? I am so bored of feeling this way – bored of myself – bored of ending up stuck in this shitty emotional place time and again – I’m just so fucking bored of the perpetual fucking struggle to be alive. Like what’s the point?! Ooffff. It’s tough. And, it seems, exceptionally sweary today!

Deep breaths… count to…eleventy billion… think of the sea… imagine your feet on the sand…distract with music…take a bath…light a candle and try not to burn the house down!

Nope. That’s not working today. Fucking useless bullshit grounding exercises. Lol! I don’t need that. What I need someone to take hold of my hand, breathe with me, BE WITH ME, and help me regulate.

Actually, really, what I really want is Anita (the old one not the new faulty Shein version). I want to be safe in her arms, to listen to her regular rhythmic heartbeat, to feel her steady breathing, breathe in her familiar safe smell, and to be able to properly rest. I want for her to read me some of our stories, and to look at the pictures together…and not feel like any of that is weird or too much. I miss it, and her, such a lot.

Being endlessly hypervigilant is exhausting. To think I used to see Anita twice and week and get that consistent co-regulation, it’s not surprising that after fourteen months without her/it I am at breaking point. I so want a safe place to put down all the shit and be…seen and held…as I am…and right now – ‘as I am’ is in a right state. The littles are not ok but to be fair, none of me is ok. Adult has been through the wringer recently and there’s just nothing left to hold me together. My rubber bands have perished and snapped, and the chewing gum is dried out, rock hard, and now crumbling.

I’m done.

It’s hard not to keep spiralling downwards when you feel completely hopeless. I feel like perhaps this is bottom – again. But as I have said many times before, there always seems to be a few extra trapdoors ready to fall down through!

I think this blog is something like seven years old now – and what’s different from back at the start, really? Some of you have been here since the very beginning and have been alongside me for what?…three failed therapies…some growth (perhaps)… but essentially it’s the same old me tapping away at the keys struggling with the same old shit. Here I am, once again, circling the emotional drain and on the limits of what I can reasonably manage. And you know what? – it’s really depressing. I’ve tried so hard to get myself into a better place over the years but look where we are…

Slow clap RB. ‘A’ for effort ‘E’ for execution.

In some ways, this, this…’bonkers rage depression crap spew’ today… is probably really needed – and yet writing has been out of reach for a while now. I just can’t even bring myself to turn on the laptop…even if writing is helpful a lot of the time. There have been no words.

This last week or so I’ve been almost paralysed with depression and that awful attachment panic and disconnect that the young parts struggle with so much. It’s been pretty rough for the last few weeks but reached its peak on Thursday and that upset of – what? – abandonment, rejection, all that horrific stuff – has been visceral. When it’s like that I’m instantly thrown into the cold, grey wasteland and my three-year-old self is terrified. It completely overtakes me. There is no adult self to help, and it feels incredibly isolating.

I stupidly looked back over some messages from Anita and the instant physical pain in my chest and stomach was immense and I just fell apart crying. Everything caught up with me. There’s such a lot of grief still to process…and probably, new grief coming if we can ever find a time to meet and end but I’ll save that stuff for another, more together post! But suffice to say, the moment I get anywhere close to that stuff I’m done for. It’s been too much to hold for too long now and I guess life throwing in a whole lot of stress has meant that my capacity to hold this stuff just isn’t there.

Alongside all this, the desire to reach out and connect with Elle has been huge but there’s another part of me that wants to run for the hills and never see her again at the moment. I get this is because actually my need for connection is sooooo BIG and so the fear of not being met where I need her to meet me, or worse being completely ignored, or in some way rejected feels too much. It’s a mess. I’m so sensitive to even the slightest hint of rejection … or no… just subtle shifts in energy…that it’s a disaster. Any normal person wouldn’t even notice this stuff…because it’s probably not even there – but… ugh…complex trauma is just the gift that keeps on giving isn’t it?

It’s embarrassing to even have to try and explain why I feel like this because from the outside there would seem to be nothing wrong at all between Elle and I…because there really isn’t anything wrong! In fact, so much is really right – and this is where I begin to despise my wonky brain and the attachment trauma and the legacy that Em and Anita and Hannah have left for me in terms of therapy, and trust, and *all the things*.

Honestly, when I look back over the last few months with Elle it has been so good on so many levels…and then…my system has to go and complicate it all.

You know what it’s like – when you feel really close to someone for a moment, that’s how you want it to feel *always*, and any perceived slight difference in the room feels rejecting. (EVEN if there IS NO DIFFERENCE other than sitting in a fucking chair that she’s sat in ALL YEAR!)

I imagine you’re all thinking, ‘What the fuck are you talking about RB??!’

Ok, so here we are again…been here before…no change there, then! Ugh.

Some of you might remember how after about nine months when I was working with Anita, we’d reached a place where the walls came down and there were those mammoth sessions where the young parts finally made it into the room and Anita held me and told me she loved me? It was incredible and did amazing things for my nervous system.

But then one day she started a session back in her chair rather than beside me on the couch and I immediately felt far away and disconnected from her. I was thoroughly dysregulated and then dissociated because all the parts that so desperately needed proximity and physical reassurance saw the distance between us in our chairs as a signal that something was now wrong, that the young parts weren’t palatable, and I must be too much. I think she had a cold or something and didn’t want to pass it on, but I saw it as a rejection. It felt horrid.

And of course, none of it was about rejection or abandonment but my system is hard-wired to view things in this way. Fortunately, I was able to bring that to Anita and from then on, we had it that she’d sit beside me on the couch this is how it was for the next three years.

Yep… so I’m in the same fucking mire again… only this time with a couple more episodes of being abandoned and rejected under my belt and so the sensitivity levels are massively high and so it feels really difficult addressing this with Elle.

A few weeks ago, around the anniversary of my dad dying, I left my session and literally within seconds had that crushing feeling of separation anxiety and panic. I had wanted to ask Elle for a hug in the session because my system was going mental but instead False Adulted my way through the session and I left with a hug – but we all know a goodbye hug is not the same…in fact sometimes it feels really hard because that closeness is so short-lived and then you’re out in the world again.

Anyway, July is always a shitty month but that day I really couldn’t see how I was going to get through the next week in one piece and less than an hour later sent Elle a message telling her that I was in a mess and asking if she had any space to see her again that week. I have really noticed lately that one session a week is just a little bit of a bridge too far. By Friday I am on my knees and it’s a real struggle – it’s the object constancy stuff and it really fucking causes me difficulties. Elle works online and face to face, but she didn’t have an f2f that week. She offered a zoom call as stop gap or if I’d prefer, said I could write to her, and she’d reply.

I decided that a zoom call probably wouldn’t help because actually what I really wanted in that moment is to be in the same physical space as her. So often I’ve found online triggers my system when I am like that…it almost makes it worse. I guess maybe it would be good to try again at some point as it might feel different with Elle and be helpful -but it didn’t feel right then.

My brain has been so frazzled lately that writing has been almost impossible – but I did manage to send something late that night explaining how lost I felt and how the minibus is out of control. It was ok but the next morning I realised that the bit I really needed to say was missing and so sent it:

Oh and I think the bit that’s missing is that actually because it feels so bad internally right now there’s huge anxiety about being too much. Because actually when I see you, I feel really far away and feel like I just want to be next to you and hold your hand so I don’t drift away.

It’s weird. It can feel so risky sending this sort of vulnerable message in the moment because I completely forget ALL the lovely messages and things that Elle has said in the time we’ve been working together and how accepting of me and whatever I bring she is. Like how can I not remember that she replied to my message telling her that I love her with ‘I love you too’? and all the other incredibly holding attuned messages over the last year?

I know it’s my brain trying to keep me safe but it’s actually a hindrance – especially when I feel like I do now- because I really struggle to dredge any of this up to the surface and just see her as someone who doesn’t care – and barely exists. As much as this blog today has been a sweary rant so far, it’s actually done me some good because I have remembered this and some other things…and that actually has settled something a tiny bit.

Phew.

That day she responded with the most perfect holding message. I hope she wouldn’t mind me putting this here – but it feels important – to remind me that there is good. I actually feel like I should make a scrapbook of our emails and text for when I am having a meltdown!:

Sitting next to each other and holding hands seems like a really good place to start. Maybe we could do that when I see you next?

When I was reading your description I remembered how my mum used to always tell me that – if I ever got lost – that I should go back to the last place I saw her and wait there, and that she would find me. Maybe we can work out a safe place where we can always return to to find each other, and then breathe together for a good long while as well. It’s incredible to me how learning to breathe in using my whole lungs and then breathe out super slowly like I’m trying to move an invisible toy sailboat has an almost immediate effect on my nervous system. It’s like having a release valve on all the internal pressure.

I like your (horrible) mini-bus analogy, even though driving the bus and being responsible for the safety of all those passengers feels like a lot, especially when you’re well into overtime having already driven a full day’s shift. 

I know these are just words and that you’re reading them not hearing them, so it’s that much harder to feel them, but you are safe with me. I am a safe person, because I know very well how to keep myself safe and I work really hard at it all the time.

Not everyone is good at keeping themselves safe, because from the outside it can sometimes look like the opposite of ‘really caring deeply’ which invites judgment (both internal and external), but it’s an essential skill in order to show up again and again and to be able to tell you with authority and total honesty that I’m here and will continue to be here for you. 

Waiting in the safe place. 

With a Chupa-Chup.

Elle x

There has been such a lot of this over the last few months that…I suddenly feel a bit of a wally for wobbling like I am now. To feel so much upset and disconnect when there is so much evidence that there is no disconnect is really hard. But this is the problem with parts when they take over and adult loses the capacity to hold them and be alongside.

I get that some of this horrible feeling of panic and fear of being abandoned will be complicated by the fact that Elle and I have a break coming up soon. Adult me has no problems with this – of course – but the young parts are just not ok at all…because it opens up space for more of *this*.

I really don’t want the young parts to be in long-term distress so that the protectors feel the need to step in and go on bouncer duty. The young parts have experienced too much pain for too long now and the protectors have come online to do what they think they do best…but it isn’t best. It’s not helpful. Attacking myself and unpicking anything good with Elle isn’t protective. It’s damaging.

I hate this!

It’s insane to see notice how different I feel writing now, to when I started an hour ago…yikes…but I have had weeks of really vocal young and protector parts and seemingly have lost my grip on adult and that’s what comes out. Frustration, upset, despondency, hopelessness… and I get it. Adult feels it all too – but just not quite to the point of feeling like self-harm might be a good idea… ugh.

Anyway, back to the stuff about seats putting the heebie-jeebies into the system.  After my reaching out to Elle that week I just about made it through to Tuesday and by that point realised that I really needed to do something to help the young parts – alongside holding hands. I sent Elle a text on the morning of our session and asked if maybe we could look at doing something with a transitional object. She responded that she loved the idea and would bring in some things unless I had any particular ideas of what I wanted.

After all the hell with the pebbles with Em and the months of shit round that, it felt really nice that Elle had responded so positively and as though it wasn’t a weird thing to request. I know Anita had always been amazing with this kind of thing but it’s hard to know how people will respond and it’s easy to hold on to the worst-case scenarios and panic.

That week between sessions seemed quite massive in lots of ways. There’d been between session contact that felt like it really moved things along. I had taken more steps towards Elle and opened up more about the struggles I was having and now we were going to do a transitional object… and we all know transitional objects are really for the littles so I guess this was my way of showing Elle that there are parts in the mix now that require attention.

When I arrived, Elle sat straight down beside me on the couch and pulled me in for a cuddle. It was exactly what I needed. Only, typically, it was a warm day and I felt too hot! So, as much as I would have loved to have stayed snuggled in close I couldn’t. Instead, we sat together, I leant up against her, and she got out some items that she had brought that she thought might be good transitional objects. She told me the stories behind each of them and then put them on the table and I reached for her hand and held it. It felt really lovely, and my system settled right down.

Of course, when it came time to leave, I picked the soft toy option. A little mouse called Monty.

I think Elle had sprayed him with her perfume because he smelled really nice- it’s fading a bit now so I think I may have to be brave RB and ask her if that is what she’d done and if she might do it again before her holiday…and if I am wrong, I can just die in a pit of shame can’t I?!

I decided to make Monty his own Instagram account and take pictures of him out and about…because I am completely fucking unhinged! After the first week I shared the link with Elle. She responded really positively to it and actually it felt really connecting. Like maybe I am not a complete weirdo and she gets it? Or maybe she’s just kind! Lol.

If any of you want to see what Monty is up to then this is the link:

https://www.instagram.com/montys_awesome_adventures?utm_source=ig_web_button_share_sheet&igsh=ZDNlZDc0MzIxNw==

hmmm not sure that’s working but the handle is montys_awesome_adventures

As I said, off the back of all that it’s opened up a lot of the young stuff inside again. So, imagine the bloody horror of walking into the last two sessions and Elle sitting in her seat across from me and the table being there between us. The table isn’t a new thing, but it does always feel like a barrier between Elle and I.

So, yeah, the distance thing has triggered my system into this fucking mess…well, not just that, but it certainly hasn’t helped. It’s ironic really – I’m probably closer to Elle than I have ever been but because of that, my vulnerability is off the charts. The moment the hurt parts and needy parts have been properly exposed the whole thing has blown up… but it’s not surprising that my system would want to protect me – I don’t want to be hurt again. More than ever, I need proximity and reassurance until the littles and the rest of my system understand that they are not imminently going to be dumped. I don’t think Elle would have even the slightest clue that this is what’s going on behind the scenes.

Although, maybe she does… the other day she referred to something in session that I hadn’t told her that she could only have found out from Monty’s page. I have absolutely no problem with that at all – in fact I think that it might be a really useful tool for Elle to see what I am posting via Monty…as it gives an insight into what’s really going on. But then this made me think about this blog.

Does Elle ever read it? She has the link to it, and I’ve sent her specific posts before to read. But I wondered the other day if she’s ever gone off and read any other the other stuff here. It’s in the public domain after all.

When I first approached her with the idea of maybe working with her, I obviously mentioned the blog straightaway and what had happened with Hannah because I needed to be sure that whomever I chose as my next therapist would be ok with me writing about my experiences of therapy. I didn’t want to get two months in to work again and then be told it wasn’t ok.  Elle said she was completely fine with my writing and also asked if she might have the link just because she’s interested in MH regardless of whether we ended up working together.

Thinking about this the other day I realised that there are probably quite a few posts that I have written that I would really like Elle to read because I think it would give her a good insight into what it’s been like for me –  you know, the uncurated mess of it all!…and then there are others where I would probably want to the ground to open up and swallow me whole if she were to read them…which probably means they would also be useful for her to read! It would be nice for her to see some actual writing rather than ranting…which is really what this blog has descended into this last year or so!!

Tbh I can’t imagine she has the time or energy to read any of this, but I know I would find it really hard to know that someone might be writing about me and no want to see what was being said!! Lol.

Anyway, this is long… and… bumpy! If you made it to the end – kudos to you.

Next week will be a year since Elle and I started working together and I think it’s safe to say the work has well and truly begun!

A ‘Walk And Talk’ To End?

rubberbandsandchewinggum28 Comments

So. Yeah. The title gives you the gist of what’s to come!

A few weeks ago (before the health stuff reared up and took centre stage again -bleurgh!) I got back in touch with Anita to try and arrange our ‘ending’ having initially told her that I needed to hold off on meeting until my work commitments died down – all this came a while after the communication where Anita finally (and somewhat unexpectedly) engaged with me after several months of radio silence and ghosting. Going forward I shall refer to that email as the ‘Shetland Isles Saga’! – because…ha! FFS!

Putting a pause on things after she’d emailed to agree that she would finally see me was definitely a good move. That email alone hit me in a way I wasn’t expecting, and it took a good while to process and filter down through my system. There’s absolutely no way I could have navigated a meeting with Anita when my work was in full flow …and even now that it’s quieter I still don’t know that I am totally ready.

It needs to happen sooner rather than later, I think, because the whole thing is starting to feel like an albatross hanging round my neck and as much as I don’t want to say goodbye to Anita, I have to to be able to move on and properly grieve her. Right now, I am stuck in this god-awful limbo space, and I just can’t keep inhabiting this place for very much longer. It’s emotionally exhausting and it is affecting me physically. The amount of tension I am holding in my body is unreal and even despite having bi-weekly massages, the massage therapist can’t get over what a state I get myself into in such a short time.

Feeling so emotionally discombobulated is also impacting my relationship and interactions with Elle. I feel incredibly needy at the moment, and the attachment stuff is starting to feel quite overwhelming tbh. I guess my system is desperately seeking safety in/with her – and I am really aware that my contact with her out of sessions has ramped up and I really really don’t want to tip the balance into a place where she dreads checking her emails because there’s yet another random effort at connection coming from me.

Of course, it’s not just one part of me in the mix with all this. There’s a part of me that is totally freaking out because people and relationships aren’t safe. There’s a protector part screaming “STOP IT RB! Stop seeking warmth and care in someone who won’t stay! Will you never learn?!” I mean if I am honest the whole mini-bus is in total fucking chaos and it can feel like I am rapid cycling through all of them and all their conflicting emotions so… yeah… I think I need to resolve the Anita stuff so that things settle inside a bit and I am less of a fucking emotional liability with Elle!

Having spent a lot of time ruminating about whether or not a meeting Anita was right for me now (my god the mental gymnastics have been Simone Biles-esque!) I decided after much deliberation that I did want an opportunity to see Anita in person despite how awful things have been. I’m probably insane. So much angst and confusion has built up over the last year that I decided that I wanted to see her one last time, to either confirm that she’s a fucking walking disaster and remind me that I am way better off out of it… and that my anger and hurt is justified, or if not that, to perhaps (hopefully) release some of the very strong feelings around this and be able to simply see Anita as a human who lost their grip on…EVERYTHING… and be able to move on with some kind of partial repair now that (perhaps) the attachment is less active (is it?!)…

I mean it’s not binary anyway. None of this is either/or, good/bad…it’s AND/BOTH/ALL and it’s fucking messy. But the main thing I am completely sure of is that I will (try) not go with any expectations of the meeting giving me anything I need/want because as much as the fantasy would be that Anita would see me and remember that she actually does care and that I am important to her, to open up her arms, pull me into a tight hug and tell me she loves me and that she’s sorry for what’s happened…

Wouldn’t that be something?!

However, I know that that ship has sailed, and that version of Anita doesn’t exist for me anymore- even though she very much did once upon a time. Sigh.

If I do meet her, I need to be realistic and know that it will, in fact, likely be very disappointing, painful, and open up a massive amount of shit – and so afterwards I will need a great deal of support because even though Adult Me knows Anita is long gone, to actually be with her face-to-face and have her not be how I have known her to be would be devastating to the Littles.

I anticipate the meeting feeling like a version of the still face experiment. My young parts will be searching for the smile and the safety and familiarity of Anita who I know and love and instead I am likely to be faced with a distant, withdrawn, ‘professional’ Anita, and this will set all sorts of chaos off inside. She’ll look like Anita, but she will behave like a stranger. I know that. I’ve already witnessed that version of A in the last session I saw her when she admitted to being ‘cold’ and ‘distant’ because she was in ‘self-protect’.

I fully expect this version of Anita to be present when we meet because I think if she truly entered into the meeting with an open heart and the willingness to be vulnerable with me, she might actually be hit with the reality of what she’s done. She will never go there. She will avoid meeting me in that place at all costs and instead function as a spectator to whatever I am able to bring. I imagine it might end up being pretty similar to the ending with Em. I’d like to hope it wouldn’t be…but let’s be real here, Anita is only agreeing to meet so she can avoid scrutiny and other people in her professional world (whom she considers friends) learning about what she did.

Ultimately, though I have reached a point in my head where I am prepared to go in and in one way or other leave with a broken heart. I mean it’s already well-smashed but no matter what happens there will be no walking away from the meeting feeling good. I am not stupid. Even if the meeting goes well, I’m going to be facing a whole lot of grief, aren’t I? Because the woman that was alongside me for 3.5 years twice a week, plus all the outside contact, will be completely gone and that special relationship will be left in past regardless of what happens on the day.

In some ways I actually fear a good meeting more than a cold and distant one because I think that will actually lead to bigger feelings of loss. Like if it feels familiar and reasonably connecting and she says something like, “It’s really good to see you” (because she won’t think and just freestyle it) how bloody awful to get a taste of that again and then know I’ll never have it after that moment. How fucking devastating to know she can turn it on but has chosen not to for me anymore.

Anyway, it’s all been a LOT! So, to the point RB! – I emailed Anita giving her some potential dates I could do to meet and she came back with:

Hi RB,

I am glad the pressure of work is easing for you. I know how busy you are around exam time.

I can make Friday the 21st in the afternoon if that still works with you.

Like you I’m not sure where to meet but wondering about [stately home] or [national trust property] somewhere quiet we can walk and talk.

Let me know your thoughts on this,

Anita x

I can’t really begin to describe the range of thoughts and feelings that came when I read that. Anita and I have never met outside ‘the room’ in all the time we worked together – well apart from that time I ran out the room upset, and she came and found me outside and sat with me in the dark, holding my hand in my car for an hour! But we didn’t begin the session in my car!

The suggestion of a walk and talk feels really weird because it seems to be completely out of step with how Anita has previously worked. I can remember another time where there was a rupture (ha- looks like there were a lot based on these paragraphs) and Anita and I scheduled an extra session to try and repair the next day.

It was on a day where she works in an office in my city rather than where she lives and where I would usually see her. I had said I would come and meet her in that office and she said she thought it was important that we met in ‘our room’ because unfamiliarity of location wouldn’t be containing enough and given I already felt unsettled she felt it was really important to have consistency so that my system didn’t get any more triggered. This seems really sensible and reminds me that there was a time when Anita had her therapist hat on and considered my needs and understood them.

So, it took me a bit by surprise that Anita would suggest us having probably the biggest meeting of the therapy – to end – out in a public place where we cannot sit and be together, where we could come across members of the public and where we/I would be totally exposed. I feel like it’s an absolutely shit idea and completely inappropriate. Is that just me or does any else thing that’s just total horse shit?

I’ve been turning it over in my mind (of course!). What could her motivations for this be? I wonder if it’s partly so that I can’t break down and make things awkard? Anita knows I’m unlikely to fall apart in public. I won’t cry. I won’t get angry. I’ll behave ‘normally’ even if I am dying inside. And that saves her all kinds of difficulty, doesn’t it? She won’t have to witness the pain and hurt that she’s caused.

I feel like meeting out in the open in a relatively busy public space doesn’t provide any kind of container whatsoever and really just feels utterly lacking in thought and care about what this meeting could/should be like. It shows me that Anita is no longer in a place to even think about providing the kind of space or meeting required and basically wants an easy hour where she can hand me my stuff, wander around making small talk and then walk away.

I’m not up for that.

I’m not saying I would go and see Anita and break down in floods of tears, beg for her take me back, and have a complete fucking meltdown and let it ALL out– but the space did ought to be provided for that possibility. There did ought to be space for me to be however it is and for that space to be private, familiar, and containing.

Tbh I am far more likely to turn up and be ‘False Adult’ and then leave and sit in my car hysterically crying for an hour afterwards because I am fairly certain my protectors will be doing everything possible to keep me safe in the moment but when I am on my own in my own bubble it’ll all come out.

So, my initial gut reaction hasn’t changed in the weeks since she emailed this. I really feel like this suggestion is just … not right for this end. It’s not like we’ve done years of intensive work, moved through the attachment stuff and reached a natural conclusion where we are ending on brilliant terms and a ‘wow, look how far we’ve come’ where perhaps a walk and talk and meeting in a different way might feel appropriate. It’s a million miles from that. Given how it’s been I don’t even think a one hour meeting is right. I actually think we should be meeting three or four times to properly put this to bed.

I discussed all this with Elle when it happened, and she was pretty much of the same mind (that it was a weird suggestion and probably would not be helpful). Elle said that whatever I choose to do she would want to see me the same day or the day after because she is really aware of what this will throw up for me… so that at least is something. As much as I don’t think I talk much about all this, when I do it must be pretty clear that it’s a fucking enormous deal.

As it happened I couldn’t meet Anita on the day she’d suggested so I didn’t have to make a plan or talk about where we would meet or explain why I didn’t want to meet publicly as health stuff got in the way so I was able to reply to her and say I couldn’t meet her because I had an urgent blood test on the day she’d suggested and then would have a hospital appointment the week after because my body was malfunctioning and so we’d have to postpone.

All year Anita has taken days/weeks to reply to me, or sometimes just completely ignored me. But suddenly being reminded of my health issues seemed to kick her into somewhere different. The reply to my email was immediate:

Oh my goodness, I am so sorry to hear your having such a time of it. It really does come out on us physically, doesn’t it? I really wish our bodies wouldn’t add to the stress we already feel [red heart].

Now I get this was meant to be caring and connecting and kind but honestly, after the last year it just felt… confusing but also a bit… lacking in fucking awareness. Like, actually A, the intense stress and anxiety I have been under that has been impacting my health and well-being has been caused in a large part by what you have done to me. So, it feels a bit fucking rich pretending to care about me now. Leaving me with no safety plan, no care, and fucking off into the sunset for a year is … well, I have already blogged thousands of words on this so we all know the score!

Anyway, I didn’t reply to that because what was there to say, really? Instead, I sent it to Elle and we talked about it in our next session and as always Elle was solid and grounded and present and … exactly what I needed in the moment.

A week later, another email popped into my inbox from Anita:

I hope everything goes well with the blood test today and really really hope you’re ok. Anita x

Honestly, that fucking floored me.

Like what?

Why?

Why start being like this now?

I sent the email to Elle and said that I was really upset. She said she could understand why and said that it feels like Anita is sending ‘really confusing and inconsistent messages’. That’s exactly it isn’t it? Elle signed off with a lovely holding message and I at least felt like I wasn’t going insane and maybe these messages from A weren’t ideal. They’d be fine maybe for a friend to send but not someone who has disappeared out my world for a year and left me for dead. This is some of what I said to Elle:

Yeah, it just feels really unfair of her to decide now that she thinks whatever is going on is worthy of a sort of care. There was absolutely no need to send me this today – especially as I didn’t respond to her message about feeling sorry and all the stuff about body stress. There was no need for a follow-up. It feels like it’s more about her than me…and that she has zero grasp of how this would land after how this year has been.

I know I sound angry. But there was a little part of me that also felt really really sad. Because it proves that Anita can care… and that makes how she’s been this year all the worse.

Anyway, those messages sent me through a total loop. I was already in a fucking state having to deal with the health stuff and I just really didn’t need that on top. To be fair, it probably all felt much worse because I was staring down the barrel of the cancer pathway again – but … even without that… it’s just… a lot.

A week after that message I had my hospital appointment to get checked over. Fortunately, they think everything is ok but when I got home the last few weeks caught up with me in a massive way. I was face down on my bed crying and was totally dysregulated…and -ugh – ffs RB – I replied to Anita…FFS!:

Thank you. I still don’t know the results of my blood tests so fingers crossed they come back normal.

Hospital today was ok. Lots of poking and prodding and then an ultrasound but they can’t see anything obviously amiss in my breast so hopefully it’s all some crap perimenopause symptom….so long as bloods come back fine.

It’s been thoroughly exhausting and overwhelming. I thought I was ok but it’s hit me like a Mack truck. X

UGHHH I know. You don’t have to tell me. Emailing whilst upset and triggered isn’t a good idea.

Anita replied moments later with:

So pleased it’s sounding like it’s going to a positive outcome. It’s understandable that you feel exhausted. It’s going to be really hard on you emotionally and physically until you get the final results. Please keep me updated and I will keep everything crossed for you xx

I burst into tears again.

It’s such an unbelievable feeling of push/pull. That message came through a week and a half ago and I haven’t replied.

My blood results finally came back and there is something not quite right in one aspect that could be linked to the blood cancer I had. This particular level has been creeping up and up every blood test I have had for the last two years and is now sitting on the borderline of the top end of the normal range – so we’ll have to see what happens six months from now. It’s a watch and wait. I hope it’s nothing to worry about but…it’s a marker for lymphoma so…

So, yeah, I’ve ridden the immediate wave of health shit and the Anita stuff and now am back in a place where I guess I can arrange to meet.

I don’t really know how to approach it but I think I am going to have to mention that if at all possible we meet somewhere private and indoors.

I can’t believe how knackering simply getting to the point to have the ending has been. I’m going to be totally flattened when I actually do meet her aren’t I?

xx

Startling With The ‘L’ Word

rubberbandsandchewinggum10 Comments

So… I’m stuck in a total procrastination dead zone again. The entire weekend last week passed in a big heap of ‘meh’ and ‘bleurgh’ and I did absolutely nothing except lie on my bed and beat myself up about not being able to do anything – I didn’t even watch crap to pass the time. It was a complete freeze. I hate that sooooo much. This weekend hasn’t been much better to be honest but I did at least take myself off to the beach walk a bit.

To be honest, I’m not surprised that I crashed and burned last weekend. The week leading into it was a massive week for both good and bad reasons – yay for a brilliant P!nk gig, boo for being put back on the two-week pathway for cancer care. I’m obviously trying to stay optimistic and hope that what’s going on with my body is some spanner in the perimenopause toolkit, but for now I am in that limbo zone and trying to not get too worked up whilst waiting to see the specialists next week.

It’s exhausting, though. I already feel like I am stuck in an endless emotional spin cycle so could well do without my body having a moment. It’s honestly been a ride this last year trying to get through the fallout of what’s happened with Anita and I feel like it’s caught up with me in a big way as I have navigated my way through these anniversaries.

There has a been a tremendous amount of heartache and pain…and disbelief…and it keeps unfolding and there seems to be something new each week – seriously I can’t make it up!! But there has also been some good, too so I don’t want to neglect that even thought the shit/upset seems to dominate.

So perhaps we’ll use this as a brief interlude before heading back to the Anita saga! – although so much of what happens or doesn’t happen with Elle is because of what’s happened with Anita… what a legacy!

I guess this last couple of months with Elle has seen me be a bit braver – perhaps – well, actually no… apparently, I tell her a lot of stuff in various ways, I just don’t fucking remember any of it – my dissociative skills are top notch- but there was a bit of HUGE moment fairly recently where I took the armour off and did vulnerability. I could almost hear Brene Brown cheering me on – after all vulnerability is the bridge to connection! (and heartbreak! But let’s not split hairs!)  

I don’t think it’s any secret here that I really like Elle. I also don’t think it’s any secret that I have been super wary of letting myself feel too deeply…no…not that…wary of *expressing* how I feel too openly.

Some things have felt fine to tell her: the shit about breaks, the lack of object constancy, feelings of shame, and little by little more about what happened with A…but one thing I have been SOOOO conscious of is being too much, talking about how I experience her, and of course, tiptoeing carefully around the ‘L’ word – well basically keeping it totally off limits. After what’s happened with Anita loving feelings feel incredibly dangerous in therapy and I simply don’t want to fall headlong into an attachment where I lay my heart bare and then the therapist comes along and stamps on it with both feet.

It can sometimes feel like a slow dance back and forth with Elle. Like, I think sometimes she has been waiting for me to take steps towards her before saying whatever she might want to say. I guess, it’s tentative because I am so easily spooked, and she knows that the relationship and trust can’t be rushed. But actually, sometimes I just need clear reminders and expressions of care and then I’ll happily come forward.

So, a while back I was feeling, I dunno, particularly ‘warmly’ towards Elle I decided to buy her a book that had just come out. ‘The Oxherd Boy’ has been all over the internet for a couple of years with its lovely uplifting and heartfelt messages on life and relationships. It has lovely artwork, too. Finally the creator made a book and I thought it would be a nice thing to give Elle. I know she likes ‘Big Panda Tiny Dragon’ and this is in a similar vein.

She seemed to really like it when I gave it to her, and then one day she was replying to an email and asked me if she could put it in the waiting area so other people could see it because she thought it was so lovely.

My initial reaction wasn’t great. Like oh my god, all the feelings of abandonment and rejection and being inadequate flared up and I felt really hurt. I guess there was a part of me that wanted it to be something special between us, or her to not see it as something that’s just part of her work. The young parts were really triggered. Aren’t they always?! Thankfully I didn’t reply with a tantrum, I just simply said it was her book to do as she wanted with…which perhaps was bit petulant but there we are.

I think Elle is someone who is a really generous spirit and likes to share things with people- she’ll loan out books etc – and that’s really nice, but I think that gift, in that moment was my vulnerable self wanting to connect and instead it felt like ‘let’s share with all the clients’ and missed the importance of the gesture on my part… not ideal.

I get this is my stuff but it’s painful when it happens because it really comes from such a young place. However, Adult me does know that when you give someone something it is theirs and Elle really didn’t need to ask me whether I felt ok with her sharing the book – but she did. Although she must think I am way more fucking competent at expressing upset than I am, because I would need a fair wind behind me to say ‘no’ and my reasons why … because uh, hello, I’m a people pleaser!

I think probably when I am talking about my day-to-day life I must appear really forthright and confident – but we all know it’s a whole other kettle of fish when we are talking about our relationship to our therapist WITH our therapist in real time face-to-face. It’s a whole other dynamic! I will get better at it – but like I say, I am carrying a whole heap of shit from Em and Anita in my backpack and so it’s harder going.

I’ve not explained that episode brilliantly well, but let’s just say, every now and then the young parts of my system make me very aware of them – and I realise I still have a lot of work to do!

Elle replied:

I so appreciate it, and you.

A while later when the parts had settled down and gone for a nap, I replied:

I appreciate you, too.

In fact, I was away that weekend and wrote it in the sand – although I never sent the picture to her…although part of me wanted to.

It was a little step forward – but for me it’s more than appreciation. It is absolutely that of course it is – and a huge amount of gratitude. But for a long while now I have had the strong feeling of love for Elle. It’s not romantic and it’s not really parental either (phew)… it’s that really fucking annoying space of friend that can’t fucking be. I mean I get it’s totally a thing, ‘oh I wish my therapist was my friend’ but honestly, had I met her under different circumstances than therapy I think we absolutely would have been friends.

But, alas, no…therapist/client we are and will remain.

So, back to the ‘L’ word. My tentative little heart has been peeking out periodically trying to figure out what is ok and safe to say to Elle – AND DUH! – like yeah you can say whatever you like in therapy can’t you?! – but we all know that when you’ve been kicked so many times that the reply is important too. Sure, we don’t express loving feelings only to have them, hopefully, reciprocated but there is nothing fucking more cringe than opening up your heart to someone and them either pretending like you haven’t said it, or replying with ‘thank you’. I needed to be confident enough that my feelings would be received with compassion rather than disgust…thank you Em…the ‘tick’ still hurts.

However, in the lead up to May I had started to share a bit more with Elle about how shit everything had been feeling and she had responded so … helpfully… repeatedly that I just felt myself emotionally edge closer and closer to her. Then when I shared what I had sent to Anita alongside my big splurge about hugs and shame etc she just really couldn’t have been better. The big long hug being welcomed and my need for it understood galvanised the vulnerable parts a bit and I think made them really see that Elle is safe.

I know I have a really good poker face in sessions and can seem totally unfazed and I dunno – cold maybe?- that I realised that I really did want her to know how I felt. I mean I get she fucking knows because she’s since told me I’m not as opaque as I might think and that she really does see me.  

In the wake of the absolute heartbreak and hurt with Anita there has been something good and so I rather bravely sent this at the end of the first big anniversary day, the day where A had told me she was ending work with long-term clients. It had been a sucker punch kind of emotional day but also a reflective one and what I alighted on was I felt a strong connection to Elle whether I wanted to admit it or not and thought, ‘Ah fuck it! Might as well say it rather than dancing round the edges’:

So I’ve almost survived the anniversary of the day life got spectacularly turned upside down… and I’m still just about in one piece even if it’s a bit (lot) wobbly. This whole month feels a bit like trying to juggle jelly, actually…and I hate jelly. 

However, as much as I feel like I’ve been trying not to drown this last year and not always being brilliantly successful at it – there is something good to have come from the shit and that’s that I got to meet you which would never have happened had A not lost her mind…or H hadn’t breakdown about the blog… 

People often ask me if A were to be back to her normal self and wanted to repair if I’d ever go back. The answer is no. 

Sometimes it feels frustrating how protected I’ve become but then I’m not at all surprised. It’s weird feeling like so much goes on in my head and then hiding such a lot 🙈 

I suspect you know this already, but I love you. And I guess I don’t need to qualify how, but it’s really a massive gratefulness for you  X 

(with these images attached beneath)

I hastily hit send and then went into a massive OMG RB WHAT HAVE YOU DONE???!!!

However it wasn’t long at all before this reply came:

Big warm smile reading that message, and a tender-sad ache in my heart for the well-protected heart that sent it.

I love and am grateful for you too, you courageous little pangolin.

And honestly, I just fucking melted. Adult me, little Mes, all of them…like RELIEF. Once again proof that Elle is not disgusted by me, she doesn’t see me as too much etc etc…and as much as she has NEVER given me any reason to think she might feel negatively towards me, far from it, the legacy of previous therapies has left deep wounds and some easily ripped open scars.

I spend a lot of time in my head (!) and I realise that I keep forgetting all the connecting moments we have had and almost feel like I need to print out our emails and put them in a binder to remind me because it’s like I suffer a huge amnesia. My brain is trying so hard to keep my safe that it’s keeping everything out – the good and bad. Not that there’s bad with Elle. I told her recently I feel like the Glitch Girl in ‘Wreck It Ralph’

Anyway, I keep moving forward with Elle, baby steps. Recently, again, I asked for a cuddle mid-session. It was the session that fell the same week of the anniversary of the last time I saw Anita and I was not in a brilliant place. After weeks of wanting to be closer to E I hurled myself over the edge and asked again – every time I feel like there’s a possibility things might have changed and it feels risky- it’s so sad – but every time I ask Elle responds positively… because she is not Em, or A, or even H – she is just Elle.

I can remember absolutely nothing about that session…other than being massively relieved to remove my armour when she came and sat with me on the couch and then about five minutes from the end saying, “I really don’t want you to hurt me” and Elle squeezing me more tightly and telling me that it wasn’t her intention and that she didn’t think she ever had hurt anyone (clients). Which is an impressively crap level of recollection for a 90 minute session – but this is where my head it at right now…flaky as fuck!

I get my experiences of therapy so far have been pretty fucking shite so far as harm and hurt go. I don’t for one minute think that Elle and I won’t hit the skids at some point, but I do have faith that she will be strong enough to work through ruptures with me and do the work required to ensure that we both remain safe in the therapy. I don’t think we will end up in a place where the therapy ends because she loses control of her own feelings and her ability to hold the frame. I fucking hope I am right with that assumption!

After that session, I sent Elle the link to one of my recent blogs too, another step into vulnerability and she replied as Elle does:

You do a really good job of describing your internal experience with this, and – believe it or not – I did get a lot of what you say here yesterday. I imagine you think you’re opaque to me and that all this stuff is well hidden, but I see more than just the corners of it I promise you. 

I think I told you the first day we met that – as well as being really good at looking after myself – I am also very very patient. Which is to say I have no real agenda other than to be around for you until you feel safe to share, no matter how long that takes. 

I don’t think I can convince you with words that nothing you can reveal to me will be horrifying or scary to me, or reassure you of something that you feel in your bones is a fundamental truth. I can only show up and offer love and curiosity and acceptance to anything you choose to bring me. 

The tightest of tight compacting hugs until I see you again on Wednesday. I hope Pink delivers!!

Elle and I have lots of interaction now – just touching base- I send her photos from my walks…but those nothing, unemotional check ins give a sense of continuity and stability which means when my wheels fall of I can reach out with the heart stuff and she does know when it warrants something deeper.

I feel like bit by bit I am letting her see me, and bit by bit the trust is growing and it couldn’t be better times because there is plenty of shit that has been stirred up with Anita this last couple of weeks and I have needed the steady grounded approach Elle brings.

So I’ll post this up now and try and write about the latest upheaval and upset from A later this week. Like I said, though, I’m finding it hard to get out of my procrastination zone with this stuff right now…I want to write- I just feel so much pain going anywhere near the Anita stuff that I am having to push through a lot of internal resistance. I’ll get there in the end!

Hugs to you all and a heart from my weekend on the beach x

The Messy Month Of May: A Tale Of Two Therapists – part 2

rubberbandsandchewinggum39 Comments

Ugh! What a week. I feel like I am in some kind of weird emotional paralysis – but stuck in utter hell so it’s not a good place to be AT ALL- and it’s stopped me from doing anything with this blog post. Despite knowing all I have to do is go dredge up stuff from April into May – so it’s not even all that ‘live’ now – it’s not proving easy. If it were this would have been posted last week and instead it’s still swirling unwritten, and my head is spinning.

I feel like I am thinking with cotton wool where my brain should be at the moment. I do know that this kind of dissociation is one of my most effective protectors but, honestly, it’s actually really preventing me from processing now. I guess I should thank my brain – it obviously wants to save me pain…and it is painful looking at this. However, my body is sending me all the messages that things are not ok even if my brain is trying to conceal things from me. I feel soooooo anxious and shaky and generally just very not ok.

I am on a massive emotional downward spiral in the here and now and am really struggling to hold all the parts together in order to remain in some way functional. I guess in some ways this recent-ish stuff with Anita is where the unravelling started accelerating and so I am reluctant to bring it to the front and centre again given where it has all led me.

The young parts are utterly inconsolable right now and I have this overwhelming need to feel safe and contained because I simply can’t regulate myself which is really disappointing given how much work I have done on myself. I feel like I am so full of tears, but they won’t come out. I feel like a dam that is on the verge of bursting but for some reason I can’t give myself the permission to let it all out – probably because I am terrified that once I start crying, I just won’t stop. I know that isn’t how it works and I know I can’t cry forever but something is holding me back. I guess, part of it is I just don’t want to feel this alone anymore.

It’s weird, there’s a massive disconnect inside. There are parts of me that are screaming out for Anita but the sadness those young parts feel when they know she is so far gone is absolute agony and so instead, they’re left in this wasteland of terror. There are others who absolutely don’t want Anita and want Elle instead – but that isn’t helpful, either, because Elle isn’t here to hold my hand and wrap me in her arms 24/7… and let’s be really clear here, I don’t want to end up face first in attachment hell with Elle because that won’t end well- although I don’t feel like I have much choice in the matter at the moment as my system steamrolls over my coping adult self.

So here I am navigating the fallout of the last year and feeling completely unequipped for the job. I think I have spent a lot of the year in avoidance and now I can’t outrun the feelings anymore … so yay for that! Yikes.

Anyway, last post I mentioned that immediately following my email to Anita asking her to help figure out a way for me to get my stuff back if she wouldn’t end that I wrote an email to Elle too…because…I am beyond help…but actually because I was really suffering. It was not long after the session where I had braved asking for a hug in session and I’d spent the majority of the session snuggled into Elle’s body – which felt amazing but also triggered all sorts of panic. And then of course she was about to go on a break…cue nightmares. So here’s more of RB in her meltdown era:

Dear Elle,

This is a real mess. It’s taken ages to get down because my brain refuses to think in a joined up way… or, rather, there’s been a fuck tonne of internal resistance and I’ve been fighting against various parts that want to shut this down over the last month. I keep zoning out every time I think about saying something, so leave it… or it completely disappears from my head when I see you. 🤦‍♀️ Things get worse and I repeat the cycle over and over until today and I’ve woken up screaming from a nightmare and I think that’s probably a message that I’m not really doing very well.

The last month or so I’ve been having dreams/nightmares where in various ways you’ve left or abandoned me in some way. In the ones where you leave sometimes you tell me what’s going to happen in advance and other times I only find out after you’ve gone – but either way there’s no explanation for what’s happened – I’m just left to pick up the pieces. It’s not a break it’s an end.

Sometimes the dreams are strange, and we’ll be in a situation that feels really off. I’ll tell you how what’s happening is hurting me and you don’t care at all, and I’ll leave – only making it as far as the next room and crumbling in a heap. I’m finding it both exhausting and unsettling. 

I think part of it is that my brain has a wonderful way of catastrophising around dates/anniversaries and likes a good couple of months run in to build as much panic as it can. It’s almost a year since Anita’s holiday that turned out to be the end of our therapeutic relationship. The “it’ll be fine and I’ll be back and nothing is going to change” couldn’t have been further from the truth and I feel like I’ve spent nearly a year in survival now… I mean on top of the usual life survival 😅. So I’m not really surprised that everything has become so panicked inside lately. I feel like the light on a lighthouse constantly scanning the horizon for danger and finding it everywhere.

Only it’s really gone wild the last few days since telling me you’ll be away. I feel stupid because most of me knows you’re just having rest and a break … which is good and necessary- like it really is. But there’s these other very scared parts that think you might not come back at all. I get it’s unlikely but actually there is a pattern of people disappearing after or during a holiday and it’s not like it’s only historical from being small- although there’s that in there, too. And I really get how fucking ridiculous this sounds – but it feels like I’ve gone up through a hole in the clouds at the top of the Magic Faraway Tree and hit the land where everything is topsy turvy and keeps flipping so there is nothing solid. 

So, I feel fucking weird about that … and actually not just about the break. I think in general I’m really struggling to figure out what’s going on. I really get how bonkers it sounds when I say that I lose all sense of you or our relationship between sessions- or at least lots of parts of me do. Like every single time I see you it feels like I’m trying to work out who you are, if you are safe, what might have changed, how you feel, if we are ok. Inside it’s chaos and it’s like trying to convince a bunch of really protective gatekeepers that you’re not going to deliberately hurt the parts they are trying to protect. 

It’s hard because all the while I’m trying to appease those parts and also take care of the very sad, needy ones I am having a completely different kind of conversation with you. I am really aware of boring the shit out of myself when I’m talking to you. It’s really hard because I feel like I can’t win. If I’m boring myself then I feel like you must be slowly dying inside and clock watching too. But, clearly, there’s some part of my system that believes that it is safer to be like this than actually exposing the parts of me that are distraught and broken. And I really get why this is happening – like I’d have to be an absolute masochist to put myself in a position where I could be hurt again in therapy. 

The other week I was so anxious and dissociated when I arrived that I don’t think I was even able to speak to you for quite a bit of time. I don’t know what happened to allow myself to ask for a hug that day because the protector parts of me had been screaming not to and wanted to go home. This is because I’m absolutely terrified of being pushed away now.

The thing is, there is also the bit of me that is like a heat-seeking missile that actually more than anything wants to be close and connect rather than be in lockdown. I find it really hard feeling far away and disconnected because it triggers my system really badly – it’s all the stuff about being too much *list goes on*…so it felt really nice to not have twenty layers of armour on and for the first time in a really long time I felt like my entire system settled…for a few days at least. 

Only it didn’t last because when I saw you again it felt like I had no idea what was going on and the same pattern of trying to figure out if things are safe, ok, unchanged happened – only with the complicating factor of having exposed that really needy part and having zero clue what the outcome of that was from your side …

So – yeah- I feel like I’m unravelling at the minute… or pretty much continuously since May tbh 😩. And whilst I’m shining the light on the crazy, I sent this to A  – I doubt she’ll respond. But as much as it will be really painful to have my stuff, I think after all this time it’s only right that I should have it back. It’s been colossal shitshow and not at all what we agreed would happen at all:

[THE LETTER TO ANITA CAME HERE]

So this was a really fucking put myself on edge kind of a communication week – I’d let ALL THAT out the bag with Elle and also sent the big thing to Anita all with one session remaining before Elle went on a break. Talk about door-handle type revelations there! I do wonder whether there was a part of me that decided to burn the house down right before the break so that if it all landed badly I would have some hiding time and could come back and pretend like nothing had happened.

Anyway, first to reply was Elle:

That’s such a beautiful honest clear request to Anita. I badly hope you get the response you want, and that you get a chance to reclaim your things and maybe also a little fraction of what they symbolise for you.

I think it’s really important for you to recognise the importance of “I don’t know what happened to allow myself to ask for a hug that day”. I think you did and do know on some level that, despite all the wounds that you have been dealt, that it was safe to ask for that hug. Personally, it felt such a meaningful thing for you to ask and to hold on (and squish tighter!) in the way that you did, but at the same time I had no sense or expectation that that session was the one that would unlock our relationship and allow you to feel you could finally completely trust me. A step forward is still a step forward, don’t negate it by whatever comes next.

I so appreciate you sharing, and I don’t want you to feel that – by not bringing any of this up on Tuesday – you’re somehow backing away from all of this. You’re not, you’re just taking your time, being vulnerable in the way that feels safest to you and yet still being so courageous. I want you to know how much I appreciate that.

I’ll see you in a few days. Until then, keep breathing and allowing yourself to be loved.

——–

I feel a bit weird posting that reply here – I feel incredibly protective of the relationship I am trying to build with Elle and have been really reluctant to be specific about anything she has said/emailed here because, well,  I don’t want her to feel self-conscious that stuff she might say might end up here on the blog and then as a result stop saying these lovely things which have felt soooo important for the building of trust in our relationship.

I know I have a long way to go and it’s a sloooooowwww process, but I think it’s important to show this email because it really highlights the difference between Elle and Anita now and how I am most certainly with the right therapist for where I am now. That message felt so holding and containing and Elle has done such a lot of that for me over this year. I might not be especially expressive or open in the sessions but she has always responded well to my vulnerability splurges in email…of course I often forget all this in the room.

Anyway, the good news is that the emails that Elle and I exchanged over that weekend did a lot to help me feel like maybe the Anita stuff that I have been so scared of taking to her was actually fully accepted and that Elle was on my side. Because Anita also replied and I was left floundering…but Elle was there to help me pick up the pieces a bit before we had our session on the Tuesday and unpicked the whole sorry fucking mess.

Anyway, here’s Anita’s reply after months of radio silence and avoidance. Seems like asking to see her supervisor or colleague was enough to make her do ‘the right thing’:

Hi RB,

Thank you for your email.

A lot has happened over the past 12 months lots of changes and emotional turmoil. 

With hindsight we should have done a proper ending at the time, especially with everything being so unstable around me.

But unfortunately, none of us can predict the future and I also understood your feelings at the time and inability to keep coming knowing it was working towards a final end.

I am so pleased you are now seeing someone else to help process everything.

I am wondering if you would like to meet up so I can let you have your things back and for us to say goodbye to our therapy relationship.

Unfortunately, due to unforeseen circumstances I have also had to change my supervisor to someone online in the Shetlands. 

So it’s not possible to use my supervisor. 

I am also currently moving my case load to online therapy only. 

I could possibly ask a colleague but thought I’d ask if you would like us to meet first rather than use a third party.

Please let me know your thoughts.

With very best wishes, love and care, 

Anita x 

Ummmm so yeah…

My initial response was one of disbelief…for so many reasons.

In some ways it felt like more of the same – look how hard it had been for her this year. The bit about my ‘inability to keep coming knowing it was working to a final end’ feels like the biggest exercise in revisionist history. It’s almost like Anita has forgotten how she was, how she couldn’t breathe, how any time I brought my feelings to the room she shut them down, said she couldn’t handle the stress and would go on again about how hard her life was. We agreed we’d come back after three months to see how she was or end if no better – that wasn’t ideal but it was the best she could manage in that moment and I had to leave because it was HURTING ME… like fuck me, she seems not to care at all about how much what has happened has hurt me.

So, I was a bit angry about that part of the email…and then I had to laugh…

The supervisor bit…

I mean…The Shetlands?

Let’s put it this way, Anita had been working with her old supervisor for YEARS (although how effective her supervisor/supervision has been is up for debate!)  in our locality and then for unexpected reasons that has to end and all of a sudden Anita is picking a supervisor who couldn’t be any further away from us in the UK – like it’s literally 800 miles distance. Whilst I’m not suggesting that this new supervisor is a problem, perhaps they are very good, and sure remote sessions these days are absolutely a thing …but, I dunno, it just feels a bit avoidant.

I mean there are soooo many supervisors in our area, Elle for one! (although can you even imagine that scenario?!). I dunno, it just feels like  a weird choice to make. Anita can hide online and pretend she’s the ethical therapist she promotes herself as. This one need not know what she has done to her long-term clients. I also get that sometimes you might seek out a supervisor with a particular specialism but given Anita is winding her work down to the bare bones of what therapy is I can’t see that being the case.

Anyway, in some ways it just felt like Anita was going, ‘there’s no way you can see my supervisor because they are in Timbuktu’ – I think, too, the realisation that I might go and see a colleague of hers would put the fear into her and that is the only reason she’s offered to meet.

The sign off ‘love and care’ made me want to cry. Like what love and care? There’s been no fucking love or care this last year.

Anyway, I went to see Elle after all this and thrashed out a few options. I didn’t reply to Anita until after I had seen Elle. Given it’s a very busy time of year for me I replied and told her that I would like to meet but not for a while because I would need to put some serious scaffolding around me to make it ok and that work is so demanding I can’t afford to not function.

That period of busy is now at an end and honestly I feel sick about arranging this meeting. I am in such a terrible place emotionally that I really don’t know what good can come of seeing her. Perhaps it’s just me, and maybe I am now looking to see the worst in Anita, but I don’t feel confident from her email that I would get the end I need. Like it really needs to be a heart-to-heart exercise. I cannot go and have the sort of experience I had with Em. I need Anita to at least meet me in the pain.

Part of me feels like I might just be leading these little ones like lambs to the slaughter. I know how bloody flaky I must sound – to have been practically begging for Anita to engage with me and meet all year, and no she has finally conceded I am running scared. I think in my head I had thought she would opt for the supervisor/colleague handover of stuff and had got my head in a place for that…but now to be faced with seeing her… gosh, I dunno.

What do I do? The longer I put it off the more I feel like I am prolonging the agony for all these young parts. But, equally, knowing I am barely holding it together as it is makes me worry what the fallout of that meeting would be.

So, yeah, it’s a mess.

I feel so desperately sad and alone. I guess, I am now coming face to face with the reality that part of me, deep down, had hoped would never come. How can the woman that held me so tightly, told me she loved me every single session, washed my elephant so that it would smell like her, and read me stories now be a total stranger. It is completely crazy making and I am not at all surprised that my child parts are fucking destroyed.

I’ll come back again and add to this because I am sooooo far behind with the blog, but for now I’d be interested to hear your thoughts on this (although not if it’s to say that I am a delusional weirdo obviously!).

The Messy Month Of May: A Tale Of Two Therapists – part 1

rubberbandsandchewinggum23 Comments

May was a really tough month, unsurprisingly, and this blog post was started right at the beginning of it – and then sat languishing as an open tab alongside tabs for a million past exam papers – whilst I did my best to get through the busiest working month of my teaching calendar and trying not to emotionally fall apart.

Mid-May signalled a year since that god awful session where Anita came back from her break and then dropped the bomb about her thinking she’d have to give up her long-term clients…but then at the end of that session doubling back and saying that we’d “find a way through and still try to connect”.

Then of course, there was the agony of flip-flopping back and forth over the next couple of weeks until I just couldn’t take it anymore and then ultimately, I walked away on the 2nd June with the agreement that Anita and I would come back together in September and either figure things out if she felt better, or end properly if the picture was not improving. I hoped she’d get better, I hoped she’d feel like I was worth her time…but nope. Her silence has been so loud that it’s been impossible to ignore and this ‘end but not’ has done so much damage…on top of so much damage that was already there.

And so here I am – a year and a day on…and we have not yet had that meeting to end, to honour what once was such an important and meaningful relationship, or to simply say goodbye and give me the opportunity to get my things back. The thought of holding my baby elephant in one hand and my storybooks in the other actually fills me with the most profound sadness, but I know it’s something I’ll have to go through in order to move on and past this. Again, given the kind of work we were doing, it’s just terribly poor that A hasn’t been able to return those things to me in order for those young parts to get a kind of closure.

It’s been a completely horrible year but this last week or so has been really terrible. Anniversaries are hard and I knew I’d find it difficult – a year without A – I could never have imagined that eighteen months ago and yet here we are, or rather, here I am.

I wasn’t expecting the wheels to totally come off yesterday given that I had survived most of May with the minibus reasonably intact and everyone more or less safely strapped in – but the wheels came off, and the windows and doors blew off, and the engine exploded, and the steering wheel came loose in my hand, and the gear stick snapped, and the brakes failed, and the air bag activated…. and you get the picture. It was a total shitshow.

I woke up and just felt completely and utterly broken, externally frozen and internally in complete meltdown. I thought a walk might help so I took myself off out to the river having failed to motivate myself to get up and out of bed on Saturday where I, instead, spent several hours like a zombie staring into nothingness when I was literally in my most favourite place in the world and a stone’s throw from the sea and sand – big gold star for brilliant dissociation skills there RB.

Usually, I find walking in nature soothing and settling or at least distracting, but all I felt yesterday at the river was total shit and anger and upset and then I started spiralling and my brain started serving me so many episodes of rejection and abandonment – and of course threw in the Em stuff for good measure. Thoughts of self-harm crept in (just because I really need that right now!) which was especially worrying given how long it’s been since I have hurt myself deliberately. There’s been a lot of dissociation related accidents with the oven and burns lately, but none of them have been on purpose. Anyway, the more I walked the worse it all got, and then my brain started really panicking and began unpicking my relationship with Elle and then I started totally unravelling… AND OH MY FUCKING GOD MAKE IT STOP ALREADY!!!!!!

It was really painful. Not only was I feeling the full force of the grief around Anita, the … what would be call it for Em?… shit?…then all of a sudden I have really really vocal parts telling me that I am a fucking fool to think I can trust Elle, that she is only going to hurt me in the end, and that actually she doesn’t really care anyway so I am idiotically marching myself into another replay of the same old shit where I get my heart broken and she walks away without so much as a backward glance…because…(here’s the fun with parts) that’s all I deserve because why would anyone care when it’s been proven time and again that I am ‘too much’.

Ouch.

Nice one Brian (brain).

These days I have a pretty good handle on my system (!). I am usually able to separate myself from the parts and to hear and listen to them and generally I’m not completely taken over and unable to function when they’re activated. Ha! Well, they had other ideas yesterday, didn’t they?!- and, honestly, I mustn’t underestimate the power of the Teen and Critic when they are doing their utmost to protect the littles because they are fucking formidable. But wow- am I tired today. And honestly, I feel so unmoored it’s awful. It’s hard not to plunge headfirst into a shame cycle because the level of need I feel right now is huge. I feel like I need a massive amount of reassurance and physical proximity…and that’s a problem because…isn’t that what eventually burns people out?

Ugh.

My whole system is totally off its tits and I can’t seem to regulate or ground. I keep trembling. It’s really bad. Part of me just wants to run away and hide and there’s the other parts that just want to feel safe and settled.

Anyway, let’s rewind a bit and go back and go back to where I began this a few weeks ago…

Back to the end that wasn’t…I feel like I am treading this same old ground over and over, feeling my way through the dark and seemingly getting nowhere – although that’s probably unfair, I am still here and so that’s something…

The lack of planning around the ‘end that wasn’t’ was impressive and, honestly, the more I think about it the more annoyed I am about it all. Therapists can’t/shouldn’t just make it up as they go along and hope for the best when it comes to closing down a therapy – especially a long-term one like mine and Anita’s was. If therapists decide to end long-term work they should be seeking proper supervision first, formulating a plan with their supervisor, and finding ways to minimise the harm to their clients so they create as good endings as possible for those clients…

Well, you’d think so, wouldn’t you?

To be fair to Anita, she was in a complete state of panic and survival and just didn’t have it in her to be working, let alone working as a therapist at that point last year. I am so sad about how it all went down and I do get it…sort of…but I am less understanding about that fact she continued to keep working, and I PAID for that fucking shitshow of a month, and that she is STILL working but hasn’t kept her end of the bargain with me. Like wtaf?!

It was clear A couldn’t hold the end and needed space as she edged closer and closer to collapse…but three months rolled by, and no end, more months passed, no end, every time I asked to meet to end she was “not in a good enough place” and just avoided going anywhere near this/me.

I’m a fairly patient person but I have my limits.

I feel that after 3.5 years of paying to see a therapist twice a week that I should at least have got some kind of ending that is about me and my experience not just a therapist saying how ‘hard’ everything was for them and being unable to hear anything that was in any way painful for me. Like it would never have been great – it wasn’t what I wanted – but at least holding space for how fucking terrible it was would have been something.

We had agreed to tie up what has been massive work…but also what has been massive heartbreak and betrayal of trust. There ought to have been a space to process that and there just hasn’t been. I’ve been left holding such a lot – and thank goodness for Elle, but this isn’t work for Elle and I, really, it should be between me and A. I shouldn’t have had to find a way through this on my own – and I don’t, Elle is there, but I still find it really difficult talking about this stuff because there’s enough of me that believes this is fundamentally a ‘me’ problem and there’s a cautious bit of me that doesn’t want to have her confirm this because I do or say enough to send her running for the hills. I shouldn’t have had to grieve this loss in this way, especially given the kinds of losses and bereavements I have experienced that Anita is so very aware of.

In March when all the health stuff was kicking off and it was my birthday I hit a really bad place. Tbh it feels like I am perpetually skidding on black ice and then I periodically face plant into the worst bits, pick myself up and continue slipping and sliding along until I fall again. But in the March crash I sent Anita a message it had been months since the last one and I made reference to some of the stuff above:

There has been no proper end, no goodbye, you’ve still got my books and baby elephant…and I can’t even begin to explain how hard that feels for the littlest parts of me.

There was no reply to that.

And radio silence is just so wonderful isn’t it?

Several weeks later in April I reached a point where I had enough of being fobbed off or completely ignored and decided to try a different tactic. I haven’t been hounding Anita or contacting her very regularly at all, but every few months I’ll ask if we can meet to end and for me to get my stuff back because…that’s what should happen!

However, I realised that if Anita wasn’t going to be prepared to meet with me then I need to find a way of closing this off and moving on because it’s so painful to me.

On 4th April  I sent this email to her:

Dear Anita,

It’s nearly a year since you went away on holiday and never properly returned. Those couple of weeks when you came back and said we had to end were really awful. Part of me was glad you could share with me how hard everything had got for you but it was really hard for me – because I care such a lot about you, could see you were in no place to hold the kind of end I needed, and so I walked away in the hope that giving you time and space would help you get well quicker and eventually open up space to be able to properly end- if that’s what needed to happen.

Of course, there was a huge part of me that hoped you’d come out the other side and actually want to see me, that actually the love you said you felt for me was real and not just words, and our relationship meant something. Clearly, I’m delusional to have thought that there was any foundation to our relationship.

After a few months it was clear to me you weren’t coming back and things weren’t better for you – but I didn’t expect for us not to be able to come back together even just for an hour, to meet, to properly say goodbye and end. Endings in therapy are such a significant part of the work. In life we are often faced with shit endings, but therapy can offer us a chance to get a good one. To grieve, to celebrate, to get closure. Only we haven’t done that. And the confusion and hurt I feel around this is just enormous… and this is especially so after what happened with Em. I never thought you’d be like her.

The very things I’ve been trying to undo for so many years with you about ‘not being worthy’ and being ‘easy to abandon’ have been hardwired now because the evidence is there. I opened myself up fully, my most vulnerable parts were completely exposed, and actually deemed both ‘too much’ (work) and ‘not enough’ (to care about).

This year has been like living in limbo. It’s been torturous. I’ve been left holding so much and have got absolutely nowhere to put any of it. To keep reaching out and to either get no response at all or be told that you’re ‘not in a good enough place’ to meet to properly end feels really crap. Like I’m not worthy of your time. That an hour of your life is too much to ask for despite the fucking emotional mess this has left me in. You said this was delicate work – and it really is.

It feels like you’ve washed your hands clean of the situation and haven’t cared at all about the fall out of what’s happened with you for me. Probably now you’ll see this as me being mental and too dependent and too attached – a ‘me’ problem. And this is a huge problem for me, but I honestly feel like the kind of work we were doing, for the length and frequency of time that we were doing it, deserves a proper end.

I assume you are still working in some capacity, and I get that it might look different now – but like I said – it’s an hour of our lives and it could be anywhere.

You still have my books and my small elephant … there’s some serious irony there. You said you’d look after it if I looked after the big one. But actually, it feels like my child parts are being held hostage by someone who doesn’t care for them at all.

I, too, am not in a good place (you can probably tell). I can’t move on from this whilst you’ve got those things. It breaks my heart not being able to be close to you. I miss your hugs, your heartbeat, and our stories. I miss being with you. I miss your energy. I miss feeling safe.

I’ve been seeing someone for several months and I can’t go anywhere near this stuff because it’s too painful. As much as I don’t want this, I do need to find a way to move on and seeing as you won’t meet with me can we arrange a way of getting my things back?

It would be too upsetting to receive them in the mail because they’re not just things – they symbolise such an important part of our work and our relationship. I know I’m going to need to be with someone when that happens so I wondered whether you might give me the contact details for your supervisor so we could arrange some kind of handover of my things and a space for me to just be with that maybe? Or I don’t know, one of your colleagues? I just know I’ll need a bit of a space to process what this all has meant and what’s been lost because otherwise it’ll be like picking up my dad’s ashes and stuff from the undertaker’s garden wall. It’s the same well of grief. I can’t really believe it’s come to this – trying to navigate saying goodbye to someone who is very much alive but won’t participate.

I feel so broken by what has happened. I probably sound angry or nuts. But actually, I’m just very hurt and want to move past this heartbreak.

Despite how this must sound, I really hope that you are doing ok because I care about you and I love you … that has never changed and that’s why this hurts such a lot x

So that was a lot – wasn’t it?

In true RB fashion, I simultaneously managed to have a fucking breakdown with Elle – it was one of those lovely moments where several shits seemed to hit the fan all at once. Things had felt reasonably settled and I had managed to take a bit of armour off in sessions which had felt nice if not a bit risky. But then, of course, she announced she was going on a break and – brace positions – it didn’t land brilliantly well inside given the landscape was already pretty fucking crap.

Breaks are never very good but I think I find them even more difficult these days because …well, bad things happen after breaks don’t they?! – but also my ability to maintain any sense of connection with Elle when I am not with her is patchy at best and breaks just exacerbate that. I find that in the usual run of things, by Friday my brain just has this void where the evidence that things are ok and the Elle is safe should be. My system starts to do the thing where everything feels wrong and dangerous which is especially bad timing as this is exactly when the young, vulnerable parts feel really scared and desperately want evidence that things are ok. It’s just fucking awful!

Honestly, I find this such a nightmare. To be so functional in my adult life and then to have this fucking disaster mess going on draining the battery is just the pits…and frankly embarrassing after so long.

However, in some act of bravery, or madness, or both following that email to Anita I sent a long and exposing email to Elle… because hey, why not?! Like in for a penny in for a pound… yikes.

But this is long so I’ll carry this on in part 2 – and guess what – Anita replied to my email…so there’s that to look forward to! Not even I could make up the content of it. The positive was, I had to laugh because…I’ve done too much crying! This isn’t an intentional cliff-hanger – more of a oh jeez we’re at nearly 4000 words again.

xx