I walk home, exhausted after my bi-weekly psychotherapy session. I’m only a couple of sessions in but so far it’s been eye opening and very productive, one could even say healing, but I cried so much in that session. I’m wiping the tears from my face as I pass strangers on the street. It feels embarrassing, I know it shouldn’t, I know crying is natural, I just don’t like the idea of upsetting anybody who sees me.
I do feel good acknowledging the wounds are there though so I can start healing them. So many years of the wrong types of therapy and the wrong medications. It feels like such a waste of life. Finding the problems and connections to fix in my crazy buzzing head.
I hate knowing that the people that were supposed to look after me, protect me, are the cause of a lot of my self hatred. Every negative harmful coping mechanism I’ve learned, every trigger that turns me scared to stone, that tells me I’m not worth standing up for, so let others hit you, again and again, don’t fight back, even years after, resulted from how I developed around his drunken shouting and arguing and inability to express.