I've been to three appointments with a therapist... someone I would call an "existential therapist" if only because the reason I am there is because.... one coincidence after another, I found myself sitting in front of this man. I was terrified, rattled, and at the end of my rope. If only because I was THROUGH with starving. Starving spiritually, physically, emotionally. Knowing that if I didn't sit down in front of this person who I knew (because of how I came in contact with him) had a huge keyring and very real chance of unlocking some ridiculously fortified doors in my psyche, I would eventually ruin my own life subconsciously on purpose. Because ruining everything is a great way to start picking up the pieces.
I was scared. I knew this would mean flashing my naked, tender, raw, hurt, scarred underbelly to another human being. And then? Then... what was the worst thing that could happen? Could he reject me? Hate me? Use me? Ridicule me? Deceive me? Yes. Did I really think he would do any of those things? I didn't know and honestly, the fear of NOT FINDING OUT all of these things was a big part of what made me hurt. At some point, convincing people you are the happiest, healthiest person on the face of the planet gets tired. Played out. Worn like a pair of sneakers with your toes hanging out the front. MY LIFE, the longest play ever written, starring me, the most ridiculous actress ever. YES, life is great and funny and wonderful and YES, i am so very loved. But I'm through acting. I need to feel whatever shit I've been refusing to feel. So afraid to feel. So begins the next chapter of my blog: Dirty Laundry.
I was scared. I knew this would mean flashing my naked, tender, raw, hurt, scarred underbelly to another human being. And then? Then... what was the worst thing that could happen? Could he reject me? Hate me? Use me? Ridicule me? Deceive me? Yes. Did I really think he would do any of those things? I didn't know and honestly, the fear of NOT FINDING OUT all of these things was a big part of what made me hurt. At some point, convincing people you are the happiest, healthiest person on the face of the planet gets tired. Played out. Worn like a pair of sneakers with your toes hanging out the front. MY LIFE, the longest play ever written, starring me, the most ridiculous actress ever. YES, life is great and funny and wonderful and YES, i am so very loved. But I'm through acting. I need to feel whatever shit I've been refusing to feel. So afraid to feel. So begins the next chapter of my blog: Dirty Laundry.
1 comment:
A lot of this hit home in very real ways. It's funny timing, too--I woke up this morning wanting to email you and ask you for help, or for empathy, or understanding. I too feel like I am on my way to ruining my life subconsciously on purpose. I'm so good at destruction, it comes so naturally. And I'm also terrified of therapy (it takes so long to build these walls up, you know, these happy exteriors for others, these cotton-padded emotional barriers to prevent excessive feeling) and I'm also scared of the full disclosure that seems to be inherent in the process. I don't even fully disclose to myself--there's too much darkness there to look at straight on. So...I guess this is all to say...I can't wait to hear how it goes, and maybe take hope that if you can do it, I can do it. Oh, and you were right about something else here, too--you are so very loved.
Post a Comment