Hi, I’m new here. Wish I wasn’t in this situation, but I am.
I started therapy in February this year. Not my idea, really. My man wanted me to go and offered to pay for it, too. I didn’t really want to, but ended up agreeing to do it just to get some peace and quiet around here. So I just picked a cute one and figured I’d go there and rant about my man for a few sessions, maybe 3 or 4. I thought that ought to do it, and then I’d be able to go home and say that I’d been «working on my issues» and all would be hunky-dory. It was a good plan.
Only that’s not what ended up happening. After a few nice, calm sessions this guy started asking me some pretty confrontational questions about my past - which I, and God help me for doing this, actually answered honestly. It is still a mystery to me why I would do such a thing. I’m a very private person, and I would never ever share anything that I’d be ashamed to admit, like say, that I was raped. But there I was, spilling the beans - with details and everything. What the f… ??!
After that, things started going downhill in a big, f*cking hurry. Because then I started remembering other traumatic events, too. Lots of them. I wasn’t even aware that those things had happened to me, quite honestly, because I had completely forgotten. And then I started dissociating pretty heavily, to the point of rendering me unable to think or speak with any level of clarity. Soon after that, I was having flashbacks and panic attacks. Basically, I was becoming a complete mess and it wasn’t possible to hide it anymore.
So yesterday, I was writing in my journal (my trauma journal, yes. Helps me keep track of all this crap) and suddenly I start having a big panic attack. It was so bad, I ended up calling my boyfriend’s mother, who was very kind and came rushing to help me. As she entered the yard to our house, she literally found me in the stairway puking into the pavement. God, what a humiliating display that was. My neighbors might have seen it, too. And I haven’t even started processing any of my trauma yet...
Please, I just wanna know… how much worse should I expect this to get before it gets better?
(I’ve got a good psychologist. We’re working through this, but it’s kind of a slow process.)
I started therapy in February this year. Not my idea, really. My man wanted me to go and offered to pay for it, too. I didn’t really want to, but ended up agreeing to do it just to get some peace and quiet around here. So I just picked a cute one and figured I’d go there and rant about my man for a few sessions, maybe 3 or 4. I thought that ought to do it, and then I’d be able to go home and say that I’d been «working on my issues» and all would be hunky-dory. It was a good plan.
Only that’s not what ended up happening. After a few nice, calm sessions this guy started asking me some pretty confrontational questions about my past - which I, and God help me for doing this, actually answered honestly. It is still a mystery to me why I would do such a thing. I’m a very private person, and I would never ever share anything that I’d be ashamed to admit, like say, that I was raped. But there I was, spilling the beans - with details and everything. What the f… ??!
After that, things started going downhill in a big, f*cking hurry. Because then I started remembering other traumatic events, too. Lots of them. I wasn’t even aware that those things had happened to me, quite honestly, because I had completely forgotten. And then I started dissociating pretty heavily, to the point of rendering me unable to think or speak with any level of clarity. Soon after that, I was having flashbacks and panic attacks. Basically, I was becoming a complete mess and it wasn’t possible to hide it anymore.
So yesterday, I was writing in my journal (my trauma journal, yes. Helps me keep track of all this crap) and suddenly I start having a big panic attack. It was so bad, I ended up calling my boyfriend’s mother, who was very kind and came rushing to help me. As she entered the yard to our house, she literally found me in the stairway puking into the pavement. God, what a humiliating display that was. My neighbors might have seen it, too. And I haven’t even started processing any of my trauma yet...
Please, I just wanna know… how much worse should I expect this to get before it gets better?
(I’ve got a good psychologist. We’re working through this, but it’s kind of a slow process.)