Well, yesterday was extremely painful. I allowed the stories in my head to pretty much ruin the whole day. And unfortunately, I am still not in a better place today. Ugh, I am so frustrated, hurt, and angry. A lot of anger. Let’s get you caught up, so I shared my blog about my thoughts and feelings on transference with my therapist. Then through a series of texts things just felt as if they escalated inside of me. Because of the stories, I am sure, but I can’t fucking hear them. I mean I know what my stories always are in general. That I am unloveable. That I am being rejected. I literally dumped my last sponsor because I could not get the stories to stop that she liked this other sponsee better. I still to this day believe that is legit. No one can tell me people don’t have favorites. And trust me when I say I’ve never been anyone’s. It’d be nice to be a favorite, just once. But why would I be? I am perceived as cold, distant, and angry. This new journal on shadow work I am supposed to start the second day asks how I am perceived by others. I was texting with my friend from back home last night, and I told her, cold, distant, and angry, and she agreed. That was hurtful. But it is true and it isn’t the first person that has agreed with how I am perceived by others. Really builds up the good ol’ self-esteem, doesn’t it? Definitely adds some credibility to the story that I am unloveable.
Let’s see where things got left with my therapist. Well, I was looking for some sort of reassurance or nurturing. But apparently, yesterday was the day for her to set boundaries because I got none. Zero. In fact, she took hours to respond to messages I sent, except the one where I asked for a referral for a new therapist, which she replied to in seconds. That definitely adds some credence to the story that she has been waiting to get rid of me. It reminded me of this lady I used to work with in recovery, and it was just a hard relationship, one I did not enjoy at all and I don’t believe she enjoyed working with me either, and I definitely pushed that toward being done, and when she finally said she found a new sponsor, I was very gracious with my words then.
Yesterday, felt like I was going through a breakup. Someone I had attached myself to for the last 7 years. Perhaps the only person who made life bearable at times for the last 7 years. And here it was this whole time, someone who was being paid to do a job. Why did I have dellusions that she cared for me other than from a professional humanistic standpoint? From a paycheck standpoint? I thought maybe I added value to her life in some small way too. But I didn’t. Why would I believe that? I wouldn’t think I added value other than money to my primary care physician, how is she any different? I am not really sure how this attachment therapy is supposed to work, but I am pretty sure I fucking botched that shit up. I am pretty sure it isn’t supposed to work this way. To feel this way. Yesterday was the first time since my last relapse that I found pleasure in the thought of, “let me hurt them by hurting me.” I didn’t. But I did cope yesterday in almost every unhealthy way that I could. I overate, I smoked two cigars, I spent money, I hit up the woman I cuddle with and then tried to make last-minute plans with her but felt pretty sure she was not going to meet me so canceled on her before having to deal with another rejection. I texted my friend from back home who I haven’t spoken to in a month because she is perhaps the only other person outside of my therapist and maybe my old sponsor who can talk me off a ledge. My old sponsor btw didn’t reply to my text yesterday.
My friend did. And it was a bit ugly even there for a bit. I lashed out a bit because I had been holding onto feelings of hurt and anger about her not coming for her visit. I had a month’s worth of unprocessed emotions towards her coming out in the midst of this shit story with my therapist.
My therapist told me to try to hear what my inner child was saying. WTF. I don’t fucking know. That she is angry too? Ok…and? I am struggling with how that is helpful. I don’t remember my childhood. I know this is supposedly all my mom’s fault. But I don’t remember. I don’t remember being rejected by her. I’ve had stories about not being loveable as far back as I can recall. I remember my best friend in middle school just dropped me one day and suddenly had all new friends. I remember being rejected constantly by two different male crush friends back when I thought I was straight. I remember my other best friend using me constantly through high school for rides and weed and cigarettes. The other day I even remembered a best friend I had in first grade, I remembered our parents had to force breaks between us because of how much we fought. I don’t remember what we fought about though.
My friend last night asked me how long I wanted to sit in it. That if I want to believe I’ve destroyed this relationship with my therapist then that is what will be true and I should start grieving it. But that destroying relationships due to mixed emotions and stories is my pattern. And I of course want to say, fuck you, you don’t know me, lol.
Yeah, yesterday was really not a good day. I am not sure how much better it will get until this thing is resolved in some sort of way. I feel extremely vulnerable, unloveable, and alone. I am going to look to see if I can get in to see this other therapist this week, not sure it’ll be possible but I think someone professional to help me process this stuff with my therapist and this other woman in recovery would be helpful. I need to see a therapist about my therapist. That is some fucked up shit right there. I don’t plan to at this time stop seeing my therapist because I want to resolve it first. Whatever this is for good or bad. Man, I am so hurt and angry. Sigh. I don’t know if my insurance will pay for two therapists. Guess we’ll find out. Maybe I’m so fucked up I need two therapists. Maybe if I have enough therapists I won’t be so hurt by one terminating me. Maybe I am just coming up with ways to not feel pain.
What a bunch of self-pity bullshit. My therapist had it right when she said fuck this pre-frontal cortex bullshit. Carve it out. Let me be a dog. Let me be ignorant.
I realize all my problems are first-world problems. Legit. I know in so many ways I’ve been blessed. I know that I’ve made a mountain out of a molehill. That I turned an absolutely fine weekend into a shit show just because of what my head decided to tell me. But there is still the part of my head that says there is truth to this. Truth to all of it.
I wish I was more loveable and accepting of love. More capable of love. I wish I didn’t fuck up every professional and personal relationship in my life. I wish I was a different person. I wish I was more capable of loving myself. Because right now I kind of don’t at all. I am pretty much sick of myself right now. Sigh. My head at this very moment said if I was more skinny I would be more loveable. My therapist would like me more if I wasn’t so fat. I would have better relationships if I was better looking. That is a fun story. Alright. I think I’m typed out. Maybe I’ll try to write more later.