My therapy session on Tuesday went a little better than usual. Usually when things get hard–that is, when we start going deeper–I shut down. On Tuesday I stayed with my t as much as I could. I feel good about myself (for once) for actually having stuck it out even though it was incredibly difficult. I’m giving myself credit where credit is due; it’s a strange feeling, to say the least.
Well, now that I am analyzing, and writing about, it, there were times I felt very frustrated and maybe did quit a bit.
We’ve been talking a lot about the cycles I go through. Anticipatory anxiety, social event, depression–and how each one is setup by my own negative beliefs about myself. My t is interested in my beliefs, because that’s where change will occur. I’m not sure I believe that. It’s hard for my beliefs to change if they’re constantly being reinforced by my actions. But in a therapeutic session we can only work on what’s inside me, not the outside world and what goes on around me. So, we talk constantly about my beliefs, which is frustrating.
There is a genuine part of me that does want change, that does want my deep, rigid beliefs to be exposed for what they are–lies. I want to be able to engage socially without that voice in the back of my head saying, You are no good. People notice you are anxious, and, consequently, they don’t like you. You will never be anything other than what you are right now. Logically, I know I have an innate worth, and I know sometimes I do appear anxious (but it’s not as bad as I make it out to be), and even if people do notice I am a bit anxious, they probably aren’t judging me or coming to conclusions that I am a bad person. But logic doesn’t always help. It’s what’s deeper that matters. And sometimes I do want those beliefs to change–or at least be challenged.
Which is what happens in therapy. Which is why I shut down sometimes. Why would I want those beliefs to change? They are me. Without them, I won’t know who I am. So, most of the time, I don’t want those beliefs to change. I just want to be able to live my life, while still thinking I am a piece of shit, which has been difficult thus far, obviously.
What’s more, sometimes it feels great to fail because it reinforces those negative, irrational beliefs about myself.
“It feels so good sometimes,” I told my t, “coming in here and telling you what a shitty weekend I had, because now I have something to point to. Now I have something to show you, and say, ‘See. I am messed up. There is something wrong with me.’ It’s fuel for the fire.”
“That voice is what I’m interested in,” he said. “That’s the voice that doesn’t want change, the voice that says you’re not good enough and never will be, the voice that says you should die. It’s a familiar voice. It’s something we need to shine light on. But when we look at it something happens in this room, something changes. You get flooded and leave.”
Anyway, during the session, I tried to open up about the voice, explaining when it comes out in social situations and how it’s, seemingly, out of my control during periods of anticipatory anxiety. I stayed with it as long as I could, but, inevitably, I shut down, relinquishing control. But I did stay with it longer than I have in the past, which is a step in the right direction. I just feel frustrated that I wasn’t able to open up more. I couldn’t find the words.