Dear Long-suffering Therapist: I feel like I am falling apart.

Dear Elle,

This is unusual for me, I don’t think I have ever written a letter to you that I haven’t sent or shared with you, and yet today I am writing this ‘hard stuff’ to you and it won’t end up in an email in your inbox or as a text to your phone, instead it’ll sit somewhere out on the internet on my blog. I don’t know whether this is a good thing or not. I imagine for you it will be a welcome relief that you won’t, once again, be bombarded with some form of contact from me.

Part of me would like to think that by not sending this letter to you it shows some kind of progress on my side. I suppose it could be viewed as ‘holding this for myself’…and if that was the true motivation for keeping all these feelings away from you then that would probably be great, wouldn’t it? The thing is, as we both know, my struggle has always been letting people ‘see me’ and ‘know me’ when I am struggling – it isn’t a good thing at all when I stop reaching out and sharing – it’s a return to default programming.

The reason I am not sending this letter to you today is because I have got myself so worked up that I don’t feel confident that it would land how it is meant and I am scared of the consequences of that. The truth is, I am basically drowning in the being ‘too much’ and simultaneously ‘not enough’ place, right now. My attachment stuff is in meltdown and my traditional go-to when it is like this is to go into hiding. This place of fear and self-imposed isolation is so familiar to me – but sooooooo painful, too, and more than anything I wish I could override the part of me that is freaking out with the ‘therapy heebie-jeebies’ and just text you and check in with the truth: Elle, I am struggling and it feels like I am falling apart. Are we ok?

The one thing I have always been with you is honest, and I have worked really hard at not letting my past experiences cloud what happens between us. Even when I have felt worried and scared that my ‘truth’ … or really, just ‘I’ would be too much for you I have always let you in and given you the opportunity to respond as Elle even when it has felt excruciating to do so. I’ve done this because you aren’t Em, or Anita, or my mum…or anyone else that has hurt me, and I have trusted that the only way to get over the hurts of the past is to allow you into my house of horrors and let you see what’s really there…even if I have wanted to turn all the lights off and lock a few cupboards and direct your attention outside to the beautiful flower garden that I have planted.

But today I have hit a block and for some reason, I can’t tell you what’s happening. And it is my fault. I can see how I have got here, and why I have got here…and I don’t know how to get myself out of it because the shame is getting bigger than my ability to combat it and we all know what happens when shame isn’t witnessed or given empathy – it gets huge and swallows us whole until there is no way we believe that there isn’t something incredibly wrong with us and can no longer believe that we are worthy of love and care.

I am so conscious of not wanting to fuck things up with you, and especially right now when my life seems to be going down the toilet. I’d sooner sit in this discomfort and know that I am not actively doing anything that could break us…or break you. Only I know this is wrong – because by not talking to you I am probably going to fuck things up because my internal narrative gets more and more fucked up and my inability to see what’s really in front of me increases. The moment I start looking for rejection and abandonment I see it everywhere…or my young parts do.

My time with you is so precious to me and I am so painfully aware (because of the past – before you) that things between us could implode if I bring all my need and big feelings right now. It’s funny, typing that, I can hear your voice in my head saying, “Lambkin, don’t be silly, there’s nothing that could make me leave you. You’re human and having a hard time and your need for me doesn’t scare me. You’re not too much and I am here holding your hand until I see you on Tuesday.” Because you’ve told me a version of that a million times before. I text you last weekend with “I miss you” and you replied almost immediately with a really holding message. You show up for me time and again…

And yet, today, I feel a million miles away from you. In fact, it’s worse than that – I feel like you are completely gone even if I have just called you to mind – or a more resilient part of me has. It’s hard. Like I said, part of me wants to reach out to you and seek some kind of reassurance that we are ‘ok’. And it is so simple.. and yet too hard right now. And this is what it is like when my system – the famous mini bus – is hurtling off down the track at brake neck speed without anyone being strapped in. There are so many conflicting or competing needs and voices that I just can’t cope. Adult me sort of knows it’s all ok, but the hurt child parts don’t get it at all.

I wonder if you have noticed how I have become ‘more’ lately. I have tried so hard not to be, extra, especially since my wife lost her job and you are seeing me for free. My internal world is so shaken and all my stuff around lack of safety and rejection and abandonment is so activated that it is total agony outside the room. I have tried to not be a complete fucking basket case when I see you, partly because I just want to have some time with you where I can ‘rest’ and feel contained and partly because you aren’t paid enough for this shit at the best of times, and you certainly shouldn’t have to put up with it unpaid!

There is a part of me that wants to cling on so tightly to you the moment I get in the room and be wrapped in your arms for the entire time I am with you. And, I know that if I reached for you that would happen – because I’ve done it before… plenty. It’s weird, though, at the moment we are close, I mean I am literally leant against you and you hold my hand… but I think what it is, is that I am keeping parts of me away from you. ‘Frustrated-with-life Adult Me’ is turning up and chatting away to you…but the very small parts that have missed you such a lot in the week aren’t there. Or they are, but they are hidden behind the sofa and you can’t see them. They desperately need cuddles, and stories, and head strokes, and reassurance and I get all I need to do is ask – but I can’t at the moment.

It’s hard. I understand why this stuff is so badly triggered. The moment my life gets a bit unsteady then every past trauma is triggered on top. My nervous system can’t differentiate which risks or fears are reality in the here and now, it just piles everything in together.

When there is so much going on in my world right now, and my system is so…mental!…so, activated, it’s super hard not seeing you as much as I am used to. And I get I am seeing you…and I am soooo grateful to you for everything that you are doing for me. I mean it is really staggeringly kind of you and it really feels incredible that you would do this for me when you absolutely don’t have to. But the little parts of me are finding the change in routine difficult. Today is Friday and the ‘falling apart’ feeling has ramped up. And it makes sense. We don’t speak on Friday anymore on our call, and the in person occasional Friday sessions that felt like such a gift are not happening either. And of course that is fine. But the fallout for my system that struggles so much with distance and containment is not doing great.

Last week you text me out the blue on Friday and it really soothed this place and the part that fears being left or forgotten about. Because you reached out, I knew that you were thinking of me and that felt so soothing. I think that contact allowed me to give myself permission to reach back to you from this place of “I miss you” rather than a slightly avoidant ‘lighter’ place.

Lately most of my communications to you have been day-to-day fluff. I think the thing you should probably know, and probably do know, is that whatever the communication is from me it is always about connection seeking. Sometimes it may be raw and vulnerable (like this), and other times completely random and non-descript insta links and humour…but fundamentally the messaging underneath is the same, and that is that I am checking that you are still there, that we are ok…and that I miss you.

And right now, that is it.

I miss you. A lot.

I am struggling to know what is the ‘right amount’ of contact with you now. Because I really don’t want to overdo it…and yet, I know that I am…and I know that the reason for this is because my system is having a meltdown and just reaching for you over and over in different ways … because to some parts it feels like you are gone, and to others there’s a fear of being left, and then…there’s messy me…who is writing this who just desperately wants things to work out.

I feel embarrassed that I find myself here. Like I know what’s happening. I know why it’s happening. I understand it sooooo well – and yet I can’t switch out of it – or turn it off.

I absolutely don’t want to be “too dependent” or worse, “like a tick”. I don’t want to be alone with all these escalating feelings that make me behave in a way that I know is frustrating (to both of us). Like I get it. I just don’t know what the answer is right now. My system is terrified of distance at the moment and so even if you aren’t distancing yourself from me – it’s how it feels – to part of me at least.

I sent you an email yesterday which was a little more feelings and less day-to-day crap and you didn’t reply to me. Usually, you would. And of course, now, I don’t know what to think because my crazy is dialled right up on high. I don’t want to make a mountain out of a molehill. I know I’m freaking out because things are necessarily different and I absolutely don’t think that’s a problem. None of this is about getting things to change – I’m hoping soon my life will get better and we can go back to things as they were. It’s just right now, I need you to know that as much as it may seem like I have my shit together and that everything is fine enough (considering the shitshow I am living in) – it’s not.

Ugh.

Fuck it all.

Man, I wish it was Tuesday…and that you secretly read my blog! lol.

Love From your most demanding, angsty, needy, client. xxx

p.s can we just snuggle next week. Thanks.

If (When) I Run Away – Please Come And Find Me.

Last year Elle and I were talking about when things have gone wrong in my therapies (there’s plenty of content there and we visit it regularly!) and situations where a client might choose to ‘end’ and not come back to therapy but it feels somehow unexpected or not the ‘natural end’. I was in one of those sensible adult places, not activated (!), and so able to express some of what goes on for me when the wheels feel like they are falling off in the therapeutic relationship and how panicked I get. I recognise that sometimes the reasons I bolt for the door (sometimes literally) are often not what appears to be happening on the surface in the moment.

What can seem like a very small trigger can send me totally spiralling…but then that’s hardly surprising when we look at this through a Complex Trauma lens, or the fact that I have tonne of parts who are all processing stuff in their own ways – many of which are not particularly sophisticated! Of course, my four-year-old self and teen parts don’t see things the same way my adult self does, nor have they the skills to manage things in the way that my adult does. You’d think I’d be ok, though, seeing as I have a really fucking competent adult self. The problem is, my system is complicated, has the capacity to hijack me, and I am really really good at dissociating. Adult self is rarely there when I need her when I am freaking out.

Let’s face it – what scares me (all of me) more than anything is broken connection, feeling like the attachment is severed, and that I am on the verge of being abandoned. This is not at all surprising given my history because there was a time when disconnection really was a life-or-death situation. My mother’s PND did nothing for my little baby self or my developing nervous system and I have spent so much of my life in survival because my caregivers have never been reliable.

It’s hardly surprising that when I feel like the relationship with Elle (or A or Em…) is headed towards a cliff edge I am the first to run away. I am the absolute queen of ‘leave before I get left’ which is why I absolutely need my therapist to know this pattern and make sure I don’t bolt and disappear when there is a rupture (even if from their side it might seem small, repairable, or can wait). Ruptures can feel catastrophic to my system these days because … well… there have been ruptures where I have been hurt really badly and basically been abandoned and rejected because of my responses. Think of Em. My reaction to being called a tick, calling her out on it, and running scared didn’t see her try hard to meet me in it, to apologise, to understand why I was terrified, she just saw it as a perfect opportunity to let me go.  

Anita was way better at handling ruptures… until her life collapsed around her ears and she couldn’t hold herself let alone anyone else. The damage from that ending is ongoing and painful. I feel so sad that in the two years since I last saw her, she hasn’t been able to step outside of her struggles and meet to end but that’s not what I am here to talk about today… although it definitely fed into the intensity of the panic I have felt with Elle during our recent rupture

So, what’s this post all about?

This is a pre-curser post to help understand a bit of what happened in the most recent rupture with Elle (i.e when I brought it to her attention). Because yes. I got myself in a mess. A big one. And I ended up sending her this message:

I don’t want to see you anymore.

You can only imagine what sort of a state I had got myself into to send that. Eek. Like, I am the person will ALL THE WORDS… not none!

I’m almost done writing that post – and it’ll be up soon. But suffice to say it’s been a wild ride.

I am glad, then, that over the time I have been working with Elle, I have given her pieces of the map of me so that she has been able to understand me better and figure out what I need.

Most of the time I probably appear pretty together when I see her despite the crap that keeps hitting my day-to-day life. I probably seem a bit wounded and in need of support for my little parts but also seem generally functional. Sometimes I am a bit closed off but I am present in the room rather than off in space dissociated. The completely derailed, panicked, reactive, scared stiff self hasn’t really made it to the room (she’s done some emailing though!) – or if she has, she’s not been triggered BY ELLE. Elle has been a witness to the struggle and in support role in the room, not the trigger. It’s only this last month that Elle has had to misfortune of meeting that part of me in person.

Anyway, back to last year. I was testing the water with Elle knowing that it was only ever going to be a matter of time before something triggered my runners and protectors and I needed to know how she would respond if I unexpectedly disappeared. We all know that there are those diehard therapists who will say “I respect client autonomy, and if they choose to leave that’s their choice and I will not contact them thereafter. It’s up to them to contact me should they want to resume therapy.”

Puke.

Honestly, this kind of therapist really annoys me more than anything. If that’s your stance as a therapist then you absolutely should not be working with C-PTSD or people with multi-part systems. This ‘in the service of the client’s autonomy’ is bullshit. I’m not for one minute saying to beg and plead for a client to come back, that’s not realistic. But so often when we start running and slamming doors behind us, it’s not because we want to leave – it’s because we are scared! And we need for the adult, regulated nervous system (therapist) to remind us that we can come back, that we are wanted (even if we are having a tantrum and full of shame), and that they are committed to working through EVERYTHING with us even if it is HARD. Letting a triggered client disappear out the door is abandonment… it’s not kind.

And so, that day I asked Elle if she had ever made a mistake with a client that led to termination and what she did, or what she would do differently. Elle told me the about the biggest regret of her career was a time when she wasn’t as sensitive as she could have been with a client who kept cancelling last minute. She reached the point where she enacted her cancellation policy after several missed sessions – i.e charging for the session by sending an email, and the client left as a result – never came back in. Elle said she had failed to recognise potential wounding around money and still feels terrible to this day.

Mistakes and missteps happen, but what I wanted to know was what she did when the client said they were not coming back. Was she a ‘respect client’s autonomy and let them go’ therapist, or did she do something different?

Elle assured me that she had reached out and suggested that they meet in person but that the client didn’t want to come back, that there were some back and forth communications but that the client ended.

[For the record there was nothing identifying or specific – merely Elle’s feeling that she fucked up and had learnt a lot from that.]

I told her that I would always want her to reach out to me because it made me think about all the times I ran out of Anita’s and how when I am upset I can pull the plug (or parts of me can) and how it is really important to me that my therapist recognises when I am truly wanting to end and when I feel backed into a corner and feel like I need to leave because I can’t tolerate the feelings of disconnect etc.

Even though Elle was clear that she would always contact me in a rupture situation – my brain was whirring after the session and so I wrote her this letter at the time:

I was thinking about what you said yesterday, about the client that never came back – because of course that’s what my brain does at 3am when I can’t sleep and the anxiety is doing its thing. I actually had a lot of thoughts, like I can think of hundreds of reasons of why that all happened, but I am sure there’s nothing you haven’t thought about over the years so it’s not relevant.

However, what it did make me really think about was what would happen if something similar happened with us. You’ve probably figured out by now that I am not someone who cancels last minute and, generally speaking, if I did it would be because something was out of my control with the kids or something. But, actually, there are times when I get completely hijacked by my system and the “I don’t want to go” (it’s much bigger and more complicated than that) is really hard to get around.

Tbh it’s rarely an “I don’t want to go” because there is lots of me that absolutely does but it’s sometimes more of a “things feel very wrong, something is up, I’m scared that it’s all going to blow up, I don’t feel safe, I feel hurt, abandoned, rejected, maybe even angry… [on and on and on]…and so I need to protect myself from that and stay away – and she doesn’t care anyway so what’s the point?! It’s better to leave before I get left…

I mean I totally get what happens, where it comes from, what parts of me are involved, and yet when it’s happening it is not always easy to sidestep it. It would be funny if it wasn’t so tragic but I guess at least there’s a really clear trajectory on how it all runs which I guess at least I am aware of now. And I see it a lot. Clients, for whatever reason, find it difficult to go to their therapy, maybe don’t show up, and might seem to be ghosting but actually it’s not because they don’t want to be there it’s because there is some kind of a rupture (that maybe the therapist has absolutely no clue about) and they, for whatever reason, can’t bring it to the room.

So many of us are conflict avoidant and even though bringing ‘big feelings’ shouldn’t be a problem, I guess most of our experiences have been that when we have, we’ve been mocked, or shamed, or abandoned, or gaslit…you know the deal… and so we’d rather not risk that repeating. I think sometimes, too, part of us knows that our reaction to whatever has been triggered is MUCH BIGGER than it ‘should’ be and so there’s shame and embarrassment there too because we feel completely derailed and it’s not even that big a deal (only it is a massive deal!).

I think it can be all the more unsettling for people that don’t really spend much time contemplating the therapeutic relationship and so when something between the therapist and client happens it’s hard to know what to do with it. Like it’s much easier to say, “I’m sorry, I’m sick” rather than, “I feel really anxious and something you said has really upset me” when they thought they were there to talk about their work stress and all of a sudden all this other shit is stirred up.

Sometimes it feels like a toddler or a teenager having a tantrum but actually I think that’s exactly what is happening – whatever is being triggered isn’t necessarily conscious and, in that moment, the adult self isn’t available enough to navigate the situation and all we know is that it just feels huge and insurmountable and overwhelming and completely in our bodies – and so the instinct is to run away and hide.

In some ways I think this can be really hard to manage because whatever is happening to stop a person turning up to therapy feels massive to them, and acting out can bring on all the massive feelings of shame and embarrassment afterwards and basically like you just want to crawl into a hole and die. It takes a lot to feel brave enough to come back and talk it through, and there has to be a strong enough sense that the person opposite you isn’t going to confirm everything that you fear is happening. It really is like with toddlers and teens. They need an adult to help them out of their meltdowns sometimes and an invitation back to work things out.

It is really complicated (but also not). I think when people don’t show up, rather than being flaky or disrespectful (I mean I guess there must be some people like that), is about testing whether the therapeutic relationship is strong or not. Like do you care enough to come find me if I disappear or will you just let me go? And I really get that this is complicated because all the training is like, ‘therapists should respect client autonomy’ and all the shit about not creating a dynamic that encourages ‘game playing’… only that is really pathologising and really makes it seem like everything that happens is down to us. It’s not game playing, it’s trying to protect ourselves.

As I said, lots of us have been hurt over the years and haven’t had the experience of managing conflict in a way that doesn’t somehow burn the house down and so rather than face a situation that potentially will hurt us more on top of whatever hurt feelings we are already feeling, we disappear. I think, for me at least, if I experience something as being abandoning or rejecting then it absolutely triggers the need to run away.

I’m not explaining this brilliantly well, and this is looooonnnggg, but I guess what I am trying to say is, if I cancelled last minute, or didn’t show up it’s not because I am rude, or don’t respect boundaries or whatever else – it’s because something is really wrong (from my side) and it feels too hard to come. If you just let me go and never contacted me to find out what was up or didn’t reach out and invite me to come and try and figure out what’s going on with you in person, actually what it confirms to me is probably everything I was running away from in the first place which is the feeling that you don’t care…

I’d like to think that a situation like this would never happen – but I also live in my head and experience often enough my runner ducks bolting. Just usually I have enough time to gather them back together before I see you.

Having a therapy go south in this way is sooooo common and causes such a lot of hurt to those involved. I have way too many stories – not just my own! – and I was wondering whether after the event a therapist reaching out would make any difference. And I think it would. An opportunity to talk through what happened when it’s not live would probably be really helpful because I think we tend to carry this shit around for a long time. 

Anyway, that’s… a lot. I’ll try not to run away, but if I do, please come and find me. X

And so… I guess it was helpful that I sent that last year, because Elle did come and find me…and the session when we did get to meet was HUGE. I’ll get the ‘what happened next’ post up asap.