I appreciate you and all you do for me and I think you are one of the kindest, sweetest people I know but there is no way I will say that to your face so I am going to nickname you pikachu instead because you both like yellow and be all like pikachoo i choose you (as my therapist)
It’s been over 24 hours. I know you always have a good reason and you always get back to me as soon as you can. I’m breathing through it but this is one of those times I really need to know you’re there.
Thanks for that stellar betrayal of both trust and boundaries. Boundaries I told you are my hard. f*cking. limits.
Also thanks for triggering me to a trauma I spent two years trying to recover from.
(NVM, Spain still exists. People that aren't interrogative bastards still exist. Out there. So more Metallica for me, the road's long, don't scream. Que carinoso, Guapito. Tranquila-te.)
I can't stop myself from saying that stuff. It just comes right out. I don't have to worry about it anymore because I already said it all. We have talked about it plenty of times and I apologize and stuff but she just laughs and says it's expected. I guess one of the best things I received from therapy is knowing that I blurt that stuff out because of my condition and not because I'm bad or somehow abnormal.
No, three times, is still a no.
No matter who you drag in to help make your point.
By the way, when I tell someone what I have, it really is a back off.
Arson references are never on with me, either.
FFS, Reader’s crew got I am in hell of a mood, weeklong, and to stay clear and not bullshit from my menu, why can’t you from being told? Nevermind. I am going to think of exTroops and Fine, back to freedom checks routines.
(3rd or 4th session) Me: I hand her the journal... which I labored over....and wrote all the shit I remembered......I was feeling it was an accomplishment to write, draw, and get it all out there.
T looks at me briefly, takes the journal from me, and quietly asks: Do you remember what you wrote?
Me: Of course I do, that's a dumb question- I know what I wrote (thinking why in the hell wouldn't I remember?)
Next time, I hand her journal 2 ask for journal 1 back....
T says: Do you remember what you wrote?...
I reply: Of course ( she asked me that last time...thinking wtf....I wrote it....thinking....didn't she hear me before? She's really dumb today.)
Now, I work in a school....and if someone is going to ask me to ..write stuff that equates to homework..I expect it checked in a timely fashion. Next therapy session:She's not done reading the last journal I gave her, which means she didn't do her homework.
T says: I haven't finished reading it. It is difficult reading and I can only read a little at a time, a little each day.
I say nothing and just sit quietly...…...then comes the unexpected......
"I haven't finished because I have feelings....it bothers me when I read this. You have a lot of trauma, a lot. I can only read a little at a time."
(I think, wtf....she's implying she's better than I am because she can feel shit better than me?.......what superiority! I got feelings and right now I'm pissed off) Then I think, it bothers me too....that's why I'm paying you the big bucks to read the shit in my journal and view my past to help me fix me! I go home....saying nothing, pissed off because T tried to one up me in the feelings department.
you pushed me off the deep end and told me to work on this process (mindfulness without dissociation) that I told you I didn’t understand and was incredibly difficult and then seemed genuinely surprised when I had a keepin it real moment w you this week about everything.