You know those sticky tabs that seal things shut? Well that’s the therapy stage I feel I am in right now. And I don’t like it. I don’t like it because I have to face my own ugliness buried deep under the “do everything perfectly for —- (insert boss, husband, daughter, mother)” sand dune I have lived under for as long as I can remember. And the really scary part is we haven’t even peeled the seal all the way off. I had a therapy session Monday. Tuesday I was sad, teetering on the edge (or so it seemed). I replayed the session and what I should have said or the direction I should have gone. My therapist doesn’t yet know me and has jumped to a few conclusions, but I set her straight. Nothing serious but assumptions that my need to be a good wife is somehow related to me being Muslim. It’s not. It’s related to the need to never give him a reason to leave me. Not that that has ever been an issue…in my mind I’m just waiting for the axe to fall. After all, I’m a needy, anxious, chubby, restless, indecisive, old lady and who would be able to look past my faults and love me? (Insert many paragraphs as to why I should be fired from my job, hated by my children, looked at as a terrible daughter, sister, friend.). MY THOUGHTS ARE NOT REALITY.
So today I am seeing the doctor (psychiatrist). I’m not sure why other than he is in charge of managing my medications. I have met him once before and he seemed very nice. I feel like I confuse the doctor and counselor because I was not an unloved abused child nor am I unintelligent. I am told I am attractive (wow that hurt to type) and I am a good person. I think he must find it hard to understand my low self esteem. Oh sure, I had a relationship with a egotistical, narcissistic sociopath who always criticized everything I did but this goes back long before that. Hell, I probably sought him out to validate the negativity I felt toward myself. Totally my fault…again.
Nevertheless, I almost want to stop counseling after only three appointments. I feel I would rather live in my world of apathy constantly trying to improve myself by setting unrealistic goals than pull my head out of the sand and face the reality that I am never going to achieve the goal of being the person I want to be. I am who I am. And she’s not that bad (yes she is).
I wish there was a pill to stop my racing mind constantly imagining the thoughts of others as though it was reality.
I wish I could take something to erase the need to complete the errant thoughts when I’m trying to concentrate. I do not need to figure out 311-68 at that very moment, but until I do…it won’t stop. I do not need to remember whether on not I put my keys back in my purse…at that moment. But I do. And if I try to push it away, the whispering is still there, behind my ear…”just figure it out, then you can concentrate” my brain lies to me. So I do…and then the next errant must-solve-now thought starts. It is maddening.
And I really wish there was a pill to stop the tinnitus which is seemingly made worse by the anxiety the counseling-to-help-me-deal-with-anxiety is causing.