The Familiar Crash And Burn

I am not in a good place right now. Like it’s probably about as bad as it gets. Sometimes I find it really hard not to just give up trying, and instead throw in the towel and admit defeat so far as this ‘healing’ business goes…or life goes, if I am totally honest. Because, truthfully, I am not sure it is even possible to heal the sort of trauma I have. Maybe that sounds defeatist and just someone screaming out from a place of deep depression – and maybe it is that, partly…but…

After all of these years of battling so hard to keep my head above water – doing ‘the work’ in therapy, reading everything there is to try and facilitate the process, sitting in and with the discomfort of it, working on regulation, communication, self-care blah blah blah… I am at a total loss right now to know what else ‘to do’ because once again I feel like I have face-planted in the cesspit of trauma and attachment and it’s killing me. Like it literally feels like I am being annihilated right now. The panic attacks I am experiencing at the moment are insane – and a relatively knew thing for me – and all I can do is hyperventilate and tremble my way through them until they stop. It’s utterly rotten and I feel so completely alone with it.  

The only discernible difference between how my mental health and system is now and how it was fifteen years ago is that I totally understand ‘why’ I feel like I do and am aware of the parts of me that I wasn’t before. I’ve spent years investigating and raking over my past and through my psyche – but knowledge of the ‘why’ things are the way they are doesn’t change the feelings underneath that are so deeply entrenched. I still feel utterly broken, and my sense of being ‘too much’ and ‘not enough’ is as potent as ever. Yes, every inch of the relational injury (mother wound) is known about in 4K detail…but that doesn’t mean that I have found a way to stop it being triggered time and again. And because it is a relational injury any time I get in a close enough relationship with a therapist this stuff comes up, doesn’t it?

Don’t get me wrong, I get this is sort of the point of it all, but I am beginning to wonder if this deep level of life-long and consistent wounding can heal or whether being in a therapeutic relationship with someone actually just perpetuates the suffering in the end? Like if, ultimately, I can never repair or make up for what I didn’t get as a kid, I just need to find a way of living with that…and I have lived with it for decades. Surely, building a relationship with someone that has so many limitations and will have to end one day is really just creating more hurt in the long run?

I suppose it all feels especially like suffering right now because the balance of my therapy is all off and out of whack. What’s going on with Elle (or not going on with her) is activating all the stuff about being ‘unseen’, ‘forgotten about’, ‘not being important enough’ and ‘easy to put to one side’, ‘being a burden’…being ‘too much’ and ‘not enough’ blah blah fucking blah get out the tiny violins and play a concerto! And it is knocking me for six.

What I have learnt about myself over the last couple of decades is that my mental health is TOTALLY FUCKED…no…well yes, that’s true…but not that!… Seriously, what I think I am having to accept about my brain and how I function is that for my issues therapy is going to be a life-long maintenance plan rather than a complete fix and move on and whoop whoop isn’t it a wonderful life?

After a couple of years of once-a-week sessions with Em it became clear that it wasn’t enough and I was actually getting worse rather than better with that level of contact. It is a really delicate balance in therapy to get the right level of containment for me to be functional. That sounds really complicated, but basically there is a sweet spot in the therapy where there is just enough contact to calm the parts that struggle with abandonment and rejection and *issues* AND be able to do the work and hold it all safely whilst still being able to get on with the day-to-day of life…and when that isn’t possible the wheels fall off and everything goes totally to shit.

The ‘totally to shit’ place is where I am right now. And as much as I try to reason things out with myself and work with the parts of me that are in such distress – it’s not always possible to reach them – or soothe them. The level of shame and embarrassment I feel about how I am right now is hideous. Part of me just wants to curl up in a hole and die because … it is pathetic. Like how, how can I be in so much pain and be so derailed by what is really just a small reduction in contact with Elle? How am I back in the grips of a bloody eating disorder? Why does my brain think that self-harm should be the next ‘logical’ step to cope with all this?

I know it isn’t *just* reduced contact with Elle that is causing me problems. I totally understand that my life being as precarious as is it right now with finances – or lack of them- is a massive worry and triggering all my programming around scarcity and lack of safety. Like that is a real problem and it is very stressful. It’s not an overreaction. I know that I am basically tumbling around in a perfect doom storm right now with all the reasons ‘why’… but fuck me! I am so over the knowledge and understanding … please someone help me with navigating my fucking way out of this shitstorm of hell and shame and fear!

Look, I am not stupid. I know that reduced contact with Elle is a big deal and also not a big deal. Of course, having the level of attachment I have to her, it would cause problems alongside all the other stuff I am struggling with – I can’t get away from the fact that any kind of change for young parts is hard and that the dots that my brain joins around availability and contact often lean towards worst case scenarios. And I get that I should be able to extend some compassion and kindness to myself for doing the best I can in a crappy situation and know that my feelings right now aren’t a reflection on me being “too dependent” or too needy, or “like a tick” or whatever unkind soundbite I can dredge up to beat myself with but…

It’s hard.

I am so scared right now.

I fear that I sound like a spoiled brat, moaning that I am not getting what I want and having a tantrum about it when I am already being given so much by Elle. And I know I reiterate this every time I post here– but I am so unbelievably grateful to her for seeing me at all right now – like soooo grateful. I don’t know where I would be if we had have had to end the therapy. Like it would be way worse than it is now…but that’s not to say I am not struggling.

And actually, being fair to myself, rather than letting the Critic speak for me “you ungrateful child, grow the fuck up and stop fucking whining!” is that my child parts aren’t brats. They aren’t moaning and tantruming. They are terrified and scared and wondering where their safe person has gone. This isn’t a kid making a fuss over not being allowed sweets in the supermarket this is the little girl crying silently, left out alone in the grey wasteland. She’s cold and scared. Why doesn’t Elle know that she’s lost out in the cold? Why doesn’t she come and find her? And…what if Elle never comes back?

The place my emotions in coming from deserves for me to be compassionate… it’s just hard because I’ve got myself back into a place where all I know to do is to shut down, isolate, and beat myself up. I am stupid for needing so much. I am stupid for letting Elle matter to me. I am idiotic for getting myself in a place where someone else can impact how I feel about myself. Don’t I ever learn?

This last few days leading into, and over, the weekend has been especially hard because I have felt Elle’s absence so acutely. I feel that she has backed away from me and I don’t know why? I don’t understand what has changed. But I am sensitive to even small shifts in a person’s energy. And as much as I don’t want to believe that Elle’s silence signals her feeling burnt out by me, I can’t help but worry that that is what’s going on.

I can’t seem to apply the rules I have in the rest of my life to what’s happening here. If a friend failed to reply to an email or text where I asked for a bit of reassurance I would just assume they were busy, or maybe missed the memo. But it’s different with Elle. Her lack of reply feels dangerous to my system. And it probably wouldn’t feel so significant in the regular run of things where we talk and check in twice each week because miscommunications get dealt with and any assumptions I might concoct in my head can be reality-checked really quickly. There simply isn’t time for shit to get out of control when the longest gap you have between seeing someone is three or four days.

Instead, I feel like I am in a sort of horrible limbo now. I’m hanging on for our session on a Tuesday and when it gets here, I don’t want to be *this*. I don’t want to be scared, and needy, and demanding, or shutdown, or stand-offish, or not fully open…or however else it might be perceived.  I really don’t want to get into a rupture over something that can’t change right now. I don’t want Elle to think that how I feel about things is because she is ‘not enough’. Because that isn’t it at all. But I know our dynamic and how our issues can play out with one another. I don’t want to be doing the ‘transference and countertransference dance’ on a Tuesday – I want to soak up every bit of safety and care that I can in the time we have together.

I know, too, that by not bringing this stuff up, it’s probably going to make it worse in the long run and I could end up in a the rupture zone with her. Please god, noooooooo.

I suspect if I said to Elle that I was struggling really badly we might agree a specific text check in on Friday before the weekend. Just like we have the text on Monday morning before the session on Tuesday. If I said, “I just need a bit of tangible reassurance to carry me through the weekend whilst we aren’t seeing each other as much” – she’d probably do it.

I think she’d hate to know how badly I have been struggling lately, and especially this weekend. The problem is, that right now I don’t feel like I can ask for more from her. And I don’t want to tell her how terrible I feel because I just feel so much shame right now. I hate that I am like this.

The thing is, this small amount of more would probably feel better to Elle than the random stuff I am sending here and there that isn’t clear in its intent or need.

Ugh.

Anyway, that’s just another splurge of my wonky Brian (brain).

I just hope so badly that I don’t get myself so deeply into the pit on aloneness that I don’t go on Tuesday. My runners are running already and the ‘leave before I get left thing is real… when all I really want is a cuddle and to be reminded that we are ok, and I will get through this, and that it is just tough right now. Brian is freaking out but that doesn’t mean Elle and I are in the shit…

I wish I could internalise that.

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.

Why Is Rejection So F*cking Painful?

Rejection. Let’s be honest, here, it’s one of the more shit things that we, as humans, encounter. I would hazard to say that it’s a pretty much a universally experienced phenomenon- although, obviously, feelings of rejection might be felt to varying degrees and at varying frequencies by different people over their lifetimes.

Like I say, the chances are that most of us have probably all been rejected at some point in our lives. I reckon it would be pretty hard to navigate the world of relationships without encountering some form of rejection at one time or other. When we are young, we can come across so many rejecting experiences: maybe we didn’t get invited to a birthday party, or someone didn’t want to be our friend at school, or perhaps someone we had feelings for didn’t reciprocate them (we all remember those early heartaches!).

I mean there are literally tonnes of rejections that we can experience over the course of our lives, and they will hurt, but most will only sting for a little while. For example, someone not ‘liking’ your holiday pics on social media won’t be the end of the world, and not succeeding at a job interview will probably be a bit harder – but essentially, we get over these ‘little’ rejections and move on… but there are other rejections and, crikey…they can feel like physical wounding and are much harder to move through and past.

Clearly, I am not here today to talk about a time when I didn’t get to go a to a party when I was five…I’m here for those other BIGGER rejections (and abandonments). The ones that really really hurt us. You know, the ones that cause us such intense pain that it feels almost physical. You know where I am going with this, right?

As you might have realised by now, I’m one of those really unfortunate, sensitive types, who feels rejection acutely – and sadly, seem to have been rejected enough by significant enough people over my lifetime that I have what now feels like an unhealable wound. Every time I think I’m getting somewhere with it, and the blood flow is temporarily stemmed, the person that I trusted to help me mend and heal, rams a fucking great rusty dagger into the heart of it, twists it, and walks away without so much as a backward glance… and I am left haemorrhaging again, bleeding out in agony.

This is the problem with relationships. Anytime we put ourselves out there we are opening ourselves up to possible rejection. Most of us crave connection. We are human after all; we’re built for connection and relationship; we want to belong. But my goodness it’s risky, isn’t it? Being vulnerable and unguarded is what is required to connect and most of us, who have been hurt and rejected in the past, take a long time to let others in. We fear rejection so acutely, and understandably so, because it is soooooo frigging painful. As I’ve said so many times before, healing takes place in relationship but so does wounding…and sometimes it feels like you’re playing Russian Roulette with you heart entering into what’s meant to be a ‘healing’ relationship.

Ultimately, I think rejection has to be seen as a relational injury. I think sometimes, too, and it’s important to acknowledge this, we can feel rejected and it’s not the intention of the other person to reject us – and that makes it all the more complex. However, intentional or not, the person that experiences feelings of rejection is the one that is hurt and left to try and navigate it. The real kicker comes in when we feel rejected but there is no repair… we’re just left holding a world of pain.

It’s no secret, here, that the main reason I am in therapy is because of the #motherwound. I guess this early, and ongoing, rejection is the one I can never get away from and it’s the one that is tapped into each time something goes wrong with a therapist. I let someone in, expose that hideous wounding, and my most vulnerable parts, trust and attach to someone who promises that they won’t hurt me, that they’re not like the last one…and then… when it comes down to it the same pattern keeps repeating in slightly different ways and it’s left me feeling broken and bruised. It’s soul destroying.

I’ve definitely been feeling my teen part a lot this last couple of weeks who always turns to Counting Crows lyrics in her despair and self-loathing, “So much rejection in every connection I make”…and I hear her. Fortunately, Adult me knows it’s not EVERY connection…but it’s enough!

Feeling rejected is horrible. As I say it feels literally, physically painful. It’s not just emotional, is it? It evokes a massive somatic response in the body. Or at least it does for me. I’ve never given the physicality of it much thought – all I know is that I am too fucking familiar with the pain of it and, when I am sobbing face down on my bed, that the only way out is through! The antidote to rejection is connection and yet that, so often, is impossible. As I say, frequently, (in a therapeutic context at least) the person that has done the rejecting has no interest in repair or reconnection. They wash their hands clean, sever the connection, you’re no longer their ‘work’ and you’re left wondering what the hell happened?

Interestingly, I was reading something the other day about rejection… because obviously it’s quite a dominant feeling for me right now (AGAIN) after what’s happened with Em, Anita, and now Hannah. And it turns out that researchers and neurobiologists have discovered that we actually do experience rejection in the same way as physical pain. Apparently, rejection triggers a response that travels down the same neuro pathways as physical pain…so that’s why it hurts so fucking much! We’re not all nutters who are too sensitive, then!

That’s something at least!

Another thing about rejection that I find so thoroughly soul destroying is what it does to our relationship with ourselves. What do I mean by that? Well, I don’t know about you, but every time I get hurt/rejected my default response is not to be gentle with myself and give myself the ‘it’s not me’ self-talk, far from it! Rejection triggers my Inner Critic who goes on a mission to further destroy my self-esteem. When someone I love or care about rejects me, I automatically run the internal narrative (on repeat and high volume) that I am unlovable, unworthy, too much/not enough… and it’s really hard. We berate ourselves endlessly and sink further and further into isolation believing we are not good enough and better off alone.

The shame we feel is suffocating. We feel ashamed for having cared, for letting people in…and mostly for having a need. I’m not sure there’s anything much worse than having a need not met and then feeling like you have been rejected for being too needy.

We all know by now (I think!) that the Inner Critic, whilst seeming like a grade A sadist is actually our number one protector. When that voice starts calling you all the names, “you fucking pathetic moron!” it’s really only trying to protect you from getting hurt again. If you believe the narrative that you are unworthy of love and care, then you are unlikely to go and seek it out again. And if you don’t seek it out again then you’re safe from rejection, aren’t you? I mean it makes perfect sense. Only, feeling isolated, alone, and uncared for is not really a place you want to be stuck in either. It’s like being broken down in Weston-super-Mare… when you really want to be in the Maldives!

I don’t know where I am going with this, really – just thinking out loud, I suppose. I am really struggling at the moment (I know, broken record). It’s been two months since I last saw Anita and honestly, it just isn’t getting any better. The acute pain of her rejection is just beyond words. And whilst I know what’s happened with H is not intended to feel rejecting and I think she’d be horrified if she knew how her ultimatum has impacted me the last couple of weeks, it does feel rejecting. I feel like I am notching up therapist rejections at a rate of knots. The whole point of therapy was to go and undo a narrative put there by my mum and reinforced by some others over the years…and instead what I am learning is, it’s a ME problem.

Part of me knows this is all just bad luck but I honestly don’t know how much more being open, honest, and vulnerable I can do – because all I seem to do is get hurt…and rejected.

Rejection sucks.

Letter To My Therapist (That I Probably Won’t Even Show Her!)

So earlier in the week I was really struggling. I always feel particularly unsettled in the first few days after a therapy session. It’s a pattern I am so familiar with now that I’ve almost accepted it as part and parcel of this therapy, albeit an uncomfortable side effect. It’s as though seeing my therapist stirs EVERYTHING to do with my attachment issues up and then I walk out the room with a bunch of inconsolable children inside me and some angry teens and have to survive the week as best I can. It is utterly draining and emotionally all-consuming.

The attachment pain I feel is agony. It’s been especially bad since Easter break where the eating disorder stuff got a bit (ok, a lot) out of control. The ED stuff was certainly triggered by feelings of abandonment and rejection around the Easter break and not seeing my therapist for almost a month. I feel huge amount of shame just typing that. I am so embarrassed that I am so attached to my therapist that not having contact can send me into free-fall and latching desperately onto my teenage coping strategies like a life raft on a stormy sea.

I hate feeling like this. I hate not seeming to have found a way of ‘not feeling like this’ after being in therapy for such a long time. If anything these feelings are getting worse rather than better at the moment. I know, in part, this is because I am keeping a lot to myself.

My last post was about The Elephant In The Room or rather the herd of elephants that are wedged in the therapy room with me! I was largely talking about the eating disorder stuff being a current and big stubborn beast but there are others. One of the most persistent and long-standing (so far as this therapy goes) elephants is the one about being unable to talk about touch and holding in the therapeutic relationship.  We talked very briefly about it last year – basically it’s a no from her- and since then I have struggled to acknowledge this really massive problem for me. In fact I would go so far as to say it is ‘the issue’ that activates all of my anxiety in the relationship.

I need to find a way of feeling ‘more held’ and I know that part of the problem with not feeling held and contained is that I see my therapist once a week. Before my last session I had reached the conclusion that it was time to ask about incorporating another session into my therapy or, at least, a check-in (because that made a huge difference the other week) and so I text her to ask if we could talk about this. I basically said that I can’t do the work I need to do with one contact each week. It’s just not containing enough.

My therapist was agreeable to the idea of an extra session, in fact she had suggested this might be a good idea this time last year, but as things stood financially with me not working it just was never on the cards. I hate that mental healthcare is so limited by your ability to pay in this country! Anyway, since I have taken on some home-schooling and tutoring work it’s just about doable to have another session.

Unfortuantely, my therapist doesn’t have any times available at the moment. Ugh. She has said it could be several months until a slot becomes available and in the meantime she has not got time for a check in. You can imagine how that went down with various parts of me. I sat there and absorbed what she was saying with an ‘it’s fine’ face – I mean it is the way it is, she is busy. BUT omg! It stung.

It wasn’t so much the not having any regular times available for a session that upset me – there’ll be one eventually- as soon as one becomes free it’s mine. No. It was not having time for a check in that hurt the parts that feel like she doesn’t care about me anyway. Like, seriously, she doesn’t have time for a five minute call at the end of the week to settle the parts that are struggling, or won’t reply to a text and say ‘Still here! Look forward to seeing you on Monday.’

I know we don’t have a good track record with texting but I was kind of hoping that if we spoke about it a bit we could reach a mutually acceptable way of interacting that would help contain those feelings that get so stirred up in the week. As it stands I feel stranded and alone and like I don’t matter. I know I should bring these feelings up in session today but it all feels so raw and activated that I suspect it will become another elephant.

I’m struggling, too, because when she told me that she had no time for a check in she said that the other week when we spoke on the phone it was an usual situation because she had had a cancellation. This simply isn’t true. She doesn’t work at either of the times she offered me to talk that week. And whilst I understand she mightn’t want to make it a regular thing working outside her usual hours, that is what she did that week. It felt like a big gesture on her part that she was willing to help me outside her usual working day and now it feels like something has shifted… she did mention that she felt that the dynamic had shifted…so maybe she’s gone back to the usual frame. I just have no idea.

I really want today’s session to be connecting and holding because we have another break next week. I am going away on holiday but my therapist would also have been away so whichever way you look at it we would’ve had a disruption (again!). I am so rubbish with breaks and the last thing I want is to walk out of my session today feeling anxious and lost and little – even if that is the norm.

My therapist said to write stuff down and bring it to session last week and so that’s kind of what I have done. I splurged on the page on Wednesday – a five page handwritten letter – and have copied it below. Today it feels unimportant, or less potent, somehow. I don’t know whether or not I will take it with me and hand it over. I guess it would prevent a silent session but I am not sure I want to be so vulnerable.

I find this whole process so bizarre. I struggle so hard for the majority of the week, the feelings are huge, it is so painful, and then I get to the weekend and things semi-settle down. I guess part of this is because I know I will have my session on a Monday and so the parts that struggle settle a little in the hope/knowledge that they may get what they need in session. I think there is probably also a bit of resistance from some of the parts. It’s almost like ‘you weren’t there in the week, so why should I care or talk to you now?’ I know!! It’s not all coming from an adult place!

Anyway, here’s what I wrote. No idea what I’ll do with it!

What It’s Like On Wednesdays

Wednesdays are notoriously the worst day of the week for me. Something horrible happens in the pit of my stomach when I wake up and it stays all day. It’s hard to explain how utterly crushing this feeling is and to anyone that’s not felt it, it must seem crazy. I know, however, that I am not alone in this and at least a couple of my friends understand.

Every week in session I struggle to talk about these feeling because they are totally mortifying. It seems so stupid that a grown-up can feel so small at times and so unsafe. What’s even worse is that these feelings are triggered in relation to you. I can’t tell you how awful that feels. I don’t want to feel any of these emotions and I certainly don’t want to feel them about you. I don’t seem to have a choice, though. Believe me when I say have tried to rationalise out what I’m feeling, to make sense of it , in the hope that it might go away…but it doesn’t.

You tell me that the young parts have done nothing wrong and their feelings are ok. Sometimes I believe you. Sometimes the way you say it makes me trust that actually you aren’t freaked out by this and you can handle whatever I am feeling. Sometimes I can feel the barriers coming down and there is a sense of connection. The problem is that a lot of the time I don’t believe what you have said, either because it’s been a while since you’ve said it (I hate that I need so much reassurance) or because I sense something is different in you. I might be oversensitive but I notice when your voice is different and how you are sitting – and even if those changes are only subtle, the parts of me that have always had to be on guard start applying a narrative to what might be going on. I don’t know how accurate it is because you rarely tell me how it is for you.

I know that my ‘worst case scenario’ thinking doesn’t do me any favours here ,but if I feel like you are annoyed or frustrated with me I shut down even further. I do, absolutely, feel helpless when it gets like that. I wish you were able to actually see what’s going on inside me when we are sitting in near silence and I feel like you are giving up on me. I know it’s difficult to picture a set of small children all alone and separate from one another suffering varying degrees of upset but that is how it is.

You said before that sometimes it’s like being blindfolded with me, and you don’t know who’s there – for me it’s like being trapped on the edge of a ravine. I can see you, just about, on the other side, but I can’t reach out to you. You cannot hear me crying. At least I don’t think you can. The critical part of me thinks otherwise and believe that you simply don’t care that it is so difficult for me and despite what you may say, are as embarrassed about how I feel as I am and choose to ignore it. It’s easier that way.

So, frequently the session is fine-ish. I talk-ish. You probably think things are ok-ish. And yet more often that not I walk out of the room feeling sad and deflated. I am frustrated that I can’t tell you how bad things feel. for the young parts. I’m still not really sure you get what I mean when I say I worry about you giving up on me. It’s not a mild sense of anxiety, it is utterly debilitating. And sure, I get it, therapy will end one day, but the youngest parts of me don’t even feel like you’ve really seen them yet and so the idea of an ending feels hideous.

I walk away feeling all sorts of agony. I really believe that it is only a matter of time before you pull the plug on the therapy. I understand what has happened lately with all the GP stuff and eating disorder stuff. I know it’s important to have a safety net but I can’t help but feel like you’ve started backing away from me because actually it’s all too much. This confirms what I have been thinking for such a long time and that is painful.

There is, of course, a bigger more horrible side to these feelings and this is what causes me so much difficulty from week to week, and on breaks. I know that I’ve said it a million times before but I don’t think you really understand that I am not being dramatic or over the top when I say that for parts of me it feels like you are completely gone – like dead- in the week. I feel panicked that you have disappeared and are not coming back.

Adult me knows that this is unlikely to be the case but the child parts have had a lifetime of people disappearing: my dad was ‘gone’ when I was nine months old until I was three and a half; and then my mum was ‘gone’ Sunday to Friday between the ages of five and eleven – and even when she came back she was often ‘not really there’. Top that off with my dad dying when on holiday – it’s little wonder that I struggle when you are not there and on breaks.

It should feel like I am onto a winner if I can hang onto the sense of you being out the somewhere but even that isn’t straightforward because when I can’t see you I miss you. And because I miss you I feel massive amounts of shame and embarrassment. It really is like having all the sadness and pain of my childhood playing out week after week and it is really hard to manage. I am convinced that you find me irritating and think I am deliberately keeping myself stuck and you are reaching saturation point.

I don’t like feeling this way. I want to find a way to make things feel better between sessions. I want to find a strategy that helps to contain the feelings. That’s why last summer I asked you to send me a message. You said after the break perhaps writing a message on a card would help and then the fucking pebbles disaster happened. I really wanted to succeed in making a successful bridge to get through from week to week and it’s not really worked because I still have no real sense of you, which I guess should not be surprising when the words were not yours.

So when I feel disconnected, like today –hellish Wednesday- I cycle through all kinds of emotions. The little parts feel completely alone and unseen and the older parts want to run away and give up. The smallest ones want to be close to you, to close the space between us, and the older ones want to tell you to stop hurting the small ones.

I completely get what you are saying about therapy needing to take place in the session and that sending long messages isn’t a good idea. I don’t want to ‘do’ therapy outside the room but really every time I send you something it’s to check you’re there. Obviously getting no reply doesn’t help matters in the least. I don’t know how to get round this. I feel like I am drowning with this stuff and can’t see how to make it better. How am I meant to feel secure when my brain conspires against me all the time?

I get to session and all the little parts want you to notice them and yet you don’t for a really long time. I try not to disappear when I see you because I want to be able to connect but there is such a huge fear of being seen and then being rejected that something happens and I don’t behave in a way that I recognise as even being me. I feel embarrassed when I sit there saying nothing because I feel like you are automatically judging me negatively. Sometimes I want you to come closer to me because my head is telling me that you can’t bear to be near me. I’ve said before that the space can feel enormous and when things are bad it feels awful.

I have no idea how to get around this. Sometimes I want you to sit near me but I don’t ask and then shut down because the shame and embarrassment of needing physical proximity feels awful. So when this happens it triggers another level of hell. It’s like I must be utterly disgusting to you, you can’t even tolerate being near me. This feels horrid, especially to the parts that want to be able to touch you and can’t. I don’t think you have any idea how big an issue this has become for me. Week in week out I feel like I am re-enacting the relationship I have with my mum. Every session we have confirms to me that on a fundamental level I am untouchable and unlovable.

I struggle, then, to trust in the relationship because on a basic level I have confirmation that you don’t want me anywhere near you. It feels so confusing because I feel like therapy did ought to feel more nurturing and connecting and yet I can’t help but feel like it is impossible to get close to you. And then I wonder what I am actually meant to be doing! Like what on earth is a therapeutic relationship?

You said once that boundaries are not barriers and I have never really been able to get my head to make sense of it because if they are inflexible then how can they be perceived as anything but barriers? I seem to keep banging hard into boundaries and feeling like I simply cannot get therapy right.

I can’t help how I feel. It’s doing my head in. I hate that wanting to feel close to you causes me such high levels of anxiety but I hate, too, that I seem to be caught up in wanting something that isn’t available. Right now I have a lot of children’s feelings and nowhere to put them and so, instead, have been trying to shut them down by attacking myself. It’s not sustainable but there feels very few options out there.

I think I still want you to read the thing I wrote about ‘The Mother Wound’ because I think it sums up just what we’re dealing with. But perhaps not now….

And lastly, finally (phew)… last week you said you would expect that perhaps I’d be relieved to have a break next week given how things have been. This really surprised me. I’m staggered that I give off such a strong sense of not wanting to be there or that I discern nothing useful from the process – but I guess that’s because I rarely show you the vulnerable bits that actually want to be there, to be seen, and to connect because they don’t believe it’s possible and are scared of showing up properly only to be told to go away.

X

Oh, and actually, I’d much rather know the truth about how things are – I might not like hearing that I am annoying you or that you think this isn’t working but it’s actually better that I know. I can’t keep doing things the way I am/we are and so something has to shift. I can’t currently work out whether that is changing things and ‘colouring in’ or ‘leaving’ – because I have no clue where we are at. All I know is that the levels of anxiety and physical drain is really hurting.

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