And so I begin again…

by irenedavid

I wrote this on July 2, but didn’t finish it, so “yesterday” was Monday, July 1.

My original therapist is back from vacation, so we had a session yesterday.  We talked about the work and method we will be using to “distance” my feelings from my painful memories.

The really frustrating part is that it will not be quick.  I’m wondering how much longer I’m going to be in therapy.  Well, that’s not it actually…it’s more, when the heck am I going to be able to move past my past?

I don’t look forward to discussing particular memories with my therapist.  I haven’t even gone into detail with my husband about a few of them.  When I’ve tried to journal about them, I get angrier and angrier until the writing is almost illegible and then the journal goes flying across the room.

I’ve decided to write my “fiasco” therapist a letter.  Haven’t thrashed it all out yet, but I think I need to do it.  It bugs me now to think about how much time I spent with him, and yet I’m no further along than I am.

We’re having a friend over for supper tonight.  This person is single because he/she cheated numerous times on his/her spouse.  This person is in recovery for screwing up his/her life.  It’s good to be around people who can’t pretend anymore.  I have some friends who are still trying to keep the mask on, but when your “public persona” gets shredded and broadcast, even if it’s because you’re the spouse, you know from then on that nearly every person you meet is hiding something.  It might just be gross insecurity–in fact, for so many, it is exactly that.  I freak some of my friends–the ones who are still trying to hold on to the persona–out when I am baldly honest about how I’m doing or what I’m feeling.  The funny thing is, I censor myself with almost all of them.  I think they’d wet themselves if I ever cut loose with exactly what was going on in my head.

So, it’s much more comfortable to be around folks who can’t pretend.

What’s the worst kind of person to run into?  Someone who says they can’t pretend, but they’ve jumped miles ahead in the recovery process in a short period of time and now they have all the answers.

Right…as Bart Simpson would say, “Eat my shorts.”  Sorry, readers, I know that’s rude, but it’s nowhere near as rude as a “recovered” poser dishing out garbage advice.