Went to therapy last night... and spent at least half of it falling to pieces over pretty much everything. We talked about my feeling betrayed, and how it makes total sense, considering my childhood.
Sometimes I wish I was just clueless... I watch for clues on people's faces or body language all the time. The look that flashed across my therapist's face whenever I'd ask him about a therapist for my husband said it all to me. He was saying one thing, but his facial expression said the opposite. I knew there was something not right. But I'd ignore it. I didn't want to know.
Turns out he had been discussing the idea with the other therapist who wasn't sure if he could take my husband as a client or not. So when I'd ask my therapist what was up, he was trying to decide if I could handle the uncertainty, and decided that he'd just let me know when it got set up. So every time I'd ask him, I'd see the look for a second, and feel confused.
It's getting solved at this point I think... It may take a while, but they're trying to figure it out.
And for some reason, he was happy that I got angry and sent him an email telling him how pissed off I was. Anger is what I feel when I'm triggered. It's what I'm feeling when I want to punch my hand through a wall. It's what just sort of shows up out of the blue for no reason. It's never been something I share with someone I depend on - except my father who would just beat me to a pulp or rape me... Anger always feels like something terrifying - like if I start letting it out, it'll just never end...
I went to the gym yesterday, and when I was done working out, I went to go shower and change. I got to my locker, and there were three soldiers in uniform who had just arrived. One of them had taken up the whole bench in front of my locker with all his stuff. So I apologized to him, and said I needed some room... and went to push his things down farther on the bench, but knocked half his stuff on the floor, by mistake.
If looks could kill... All he said was, "I was going to be done in a minute" in a really measured, angry tone. I was thinking, "how appropriate, some soldier is going to beat the shit out of me". It was only later that I realized that I actually wanted him to do it. I wanted him to smash me in the face. I don't know why. I didn't want to get in a fight, I just wanted to be in pain and covered in blood. My blood.
But nothing happened. He picked up his stuff, I put my stuff in my locker and we each went our separate ways.
I have an extra therapy appointment again this afternoon. Thank God...
