Despite the nerves I expressed yesterday, therapy today went quite well. As predicted, I had to revisit the pain over my doctor not telling me he was leaving, and I’ve been encouraged to ‘feel and deal’; feel the emotions I’ve been blocking over that, and do something to deal with them. At the end of this post I will write a draft letter to my doc, and if I’m brave I’ll send him a card next week.
Dr T and I also realised in session today that at an unconscious level I’m really angry about something – it’s so important that unlocking the repressed event/finding the source might make a huge difference to my depression. Sometimes when I go to bed, I find myself saying something out loud without really realising, and without any previous thought. Throughout my late-teenage years I would say ‘help me‘. In the last couple of weeks, I’ve started saying ‘do you even realise the damage you’ve done??!‘. As much as I hate the concept of my unconscious communicating something, this can’t be ignored. I’m just scared I won’t ever find what I’ve repressed.
It was also good to share what happened last night: one of our cats brought in a live (injured) bird, and I was really upset while dealing with it. I couldn’t save it. And people find it funny that I even care, which in turn makes me angry about human arrogance. Anyway, Dr T didn’t laugh at me like others have, and he reassured me that my distress was normal. But why should anyone give a damn about my distress…that bird lost its life. I couldn’t help it. And that bird didn’t exist in a vacuum – it was a living being, a part of an ecosystem, and it’s death will affect other parts of the ecosystem…
Next week will be my last session with Dr T before he takes a month off, and I’m trying to figure out how to turn that month into something really positive. I’m thinking of setting some goals, like being able to tell Dr T upon his return that I’ve found a job/applied for several jobs, things like that. And I might use that time to think about therapy itself, and see what I can do to make things a little smoother.
I’m sorry I can’t say these words in person, but it’s important you find them one way or another.
I want to thank you more than words can express. Thank you for your un-ending patience. Thank you for being so trustworthy – we both know how much I’ve cut myself off from other sources of support over time, and there have been occasions when you were the only person I felt I could ask for help.
But most importantly, thank you for never giving up on me, even when I had clearly given up on myself. You may have saved my life.
I will never forget what you have done for me, and I really wish you all the very best in your retirement.