I don’t know where the summer went, busyness as a strategy for avoiding stuff is probably a reasonable assessment.
Therapy has been tough, not the content but the effort of avoiding stuff. It slipped out a few weeks ago, that I mostly think about what not to say in therapy. And now he has confronted that. I want to get better but to do that he says I ‘have to share more’, that I have to talk about the difficult stuff. I wonder if he knows already, those things I haven’t said yet? I think he might, but that doesn’t make it easier.
I need to let him closer, but I don’t think I can, I have always kept something back, always. Call it what you like, an exit route, a safety net, whatever.
I am scared, terrified – my choice then, as I see it, is to work through it or to walk away.
He already knows more than anyone else, so how much of myself do I have to share, how much more? I can’t talk about this stuff, I need to be well enough and sane enough to manage – why can’t he understand that?
And all of it was their fault, they did this to me – so why do I have to struggle so much just because they couldn’t love me, because they couldn’t find a way to keep me safe, to help me grow? She attacked me, constantly, and he did nothing. And nothing will ever make up for that, nothing.
So why should I even try to get better?