therapy n stuff in Journal

i start therapy next week again and it’s a mixture of ‘i can’t wait’ & ‘oh god’. opening up to a stranger about everything fucked up in your head is scary. i also want a place to talk because i can’t keep all this stuff in any longer. last night i realised that my brain is trying to repress emotions/memories again because of the pain. when i try to think of certain topics my body automatically triggers the fight/flight response and all i’ve sudden i’m crying and gasping for air. i know this is unhealthy. neurotypical people don’t suddenly burst into tears at a loud noise or a sudden discomfort. i know i need help. i just am weary of finding new therapists.

i’m still upset my last therapist had to leave. we were making such great progress at the perfect pace for me and then she just had to go. we had 2 sessions to finish up and it wasn’t enough. i spent the last session trying to give the ‘right’ answers because i felt guilty about having our last session with me still miserable and depressed. i wanted her to feel like she had achieved something with me. when i came home i just felt worse because i wasn’t honest. you’re supposed to be honest with your therapist but i still felt too ‘bad’ being so.

i also know you have to build up rapport until you get to a place where you feel comfortable divulging into certain things. i also know the first session is where i have to bring up the r*pe stuff with a straight face. i hate crying in the first session because it’s embarrassing. i don’t know this person well enough to tell them about domestic abuse. and yet i have to. it feels weird to talk blatantly about PTSD because so many people have NO idea how to react. sometimes when i mention it to medical professionals they avert their eyes. PTSD still feels so awkward and taboo. i wish it wasn’t. i wish it got the same reaction as to when i mention ‘anxiety’ and even to some degree, depression. people look at you differently when you tell them you have PTSD. like they’re scared of you or that they pity you. it fucking sucks. once i had to answer some questions over the phone for a mental health support group (one that never happened anyway) and when i told her i had PTSD her pitch and tone changed completely. part of me used to like the sympathy because i sure as hell never got any from my family. now i like it when people don’t treat me like that. i want to be told i’m strong, bold, enduring. i guess it’s not their fault. i still don’t know how to react sometimes. we’re not really socialised to deal with the bad, only the good.

this morning i thought about what life would be like if J and i broke up. it would be scary and it would suck financially, but i could move back in with my parents temporarily. i could move to another city eventually, get a better job, finish my degree, spend time with my friends. i used to think breaking up would be suicide but i don’t feel so powerless anymore.
then of course he sends me a loveheart over text and i know i don’t really want to go, not yet. there’s still things i feel hopeful for. i really wish this covid business is dealt with next year. i know its silly and naive to expect it to simply go away but i want my old life back. i’m looking potentially at unemployment at the end of this year. i REALLY don’t want that. i like being independent.

ah well, wish me luck