My hidden self

I find the time I spend with my therapist to be both excruciatingly difficult and, at the same time, oddly reassuring, we talk about it a lot, how part of me doesn’t want to be there, and still another part needs to have someone listen and understand, a witness, as it were.

We talked too about the front I have had to put on to cope over the years, we didn’t say much, but the reference to it stuck. It’s odd how that works, a passing comment, almost a throw away thought, becomes the one thing I cannot shake.

I wonder if, and this I guess is not earth shattering, especially to the therapists out there, perhaps I don’t need to hide behind that front in therapy (or, indeed, anywhere)? Not that I’m saying I can do with out it, but I have been wondering today, what that might be like, to just say it how it is, perhaps to allow myself to cry and, horror of horrors, to maybe acknowledge the munch-kin, the ‘little me’ that so badly wants to be heard….

I don’t do crying, I don’t do feelings, I hate being weak. And yet, I know that it’s not weakness, at least not in other people. If I could just dare to share those parts of myself, the ones I have learned over the years to hide, some to protect and others to deny, what might happen……what would it be like to feel safe somewhere, in this world that is such a frightening place to me, to maybe find after all these years a truly safe space, I wonder, what might happen…….


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