I sat in my therapist’s office today just as I have hundreds of times before. We’ve been working on and off together for the better part of the last 15 years. He’s seen me at my best and at my worst. Being afraid to come in today as a result of my last injury, I swore that THIS is my worst.
He disagreed. He fears my injury could spiral down still and feels helpless before me. I knew he would say that and I felt so ashamed. So ashamed that I couldn’t say anything. I could have said that I swore I wanted to get better and that I’d never hurt myself again. And he was right when he said he understood my fear and desire to get better but at this point, it’s all about action, I knew he was right.
So scared out of my mind and shamed into silence, I sat uncomfortably through my session this morning. I listened while my therapist told me the realities and his hopes for me. At first, I wondered what the point was since I didn’t really talk. Now I think it was important for me to sit in my fear and shame while somebody told me that he cared about me.
WIthin a week, I will be going to residential treatment. I feel confident about my decision to go but a great sadness falls over me. I can’t explain it except to say that I’m grieving the self-loathing part of me. It’s been such a long battle for me. I feel like this is a last resort and I’m praying for redemption and recovery.