July 29, 2022
Talk Therapy
It is painful to be told that you need talk therapy. I have been told that on multiple occasions by my mother and my sister. And I always find it difficult to recover from this.
At first, it was a passing comment. Maybe I just needed to be listened to by someone who had the mental and emotional stability. I only needed to vent my frustrations and just that my mother didn’t have the time for that as she had problems of her own.
Then, I was told I needed therapy so that I can understand why I feel the way I do and why I react the way I do. They told me I needed therapy to give reason to my emotions. In hindsight, I feel like going to therapy for this reason would have just been fruitless.
Although I am unsure, I believe that I am quite self-aware. At the very least, I understand my trauma. I know where it comes from and I expect the panic attacks that surface with even a slight memory of the pain. I react the way I do because my mind is afraid of being in pain again. I know that I seek approval. That I do not settle for acknowledgement, I want recognition. And it is unfortunate that I cannot take even light rejection well. I know I withdraw from a relationship because I feel as if my actions were wrong and had caused harm. It makes me feel like I am a danger to their peace. I think my presence is unacceptable.
That is at least how I would judge myself if I were a spectator.
Sometimes I become numb to the trauma. Sometimes I get a good night’s sleep and the memories of emotional abuse become vivid. Sometimes they aren’t just memories.
Finally, I was told I need therapy because I am an awful person. That I am toxic and I act like I am perfect. That I cannot air my disagreements because they are irrational. That I have it easy and I am at fault for why my sister continues to be depressed and suicidal to this day. That I don’t understand other people’s problems and I am uncompassionate. I am someone deserving only of hate. That I am as toxic as my own mother. What I heard from all of these is that I am at fault for ruining all of my relationships with my family.
That, I was told that. I did not come to realize this myself and I struggle believing in it. I never appeared to have any problems even when most of my mind is preoccupied with failing grades, disordered eating, overconsumption of beauty products, hobbies I can’t commit to, a diminished attention span, self harm and consequently hideous scars running through my thighs, suicide attempts, a fear of just losing my eyesight one day. I am nonchalant with most things because I just cannot worry myself too much. I do not have emotional space for compassion. I do not care if people listen to me. My problems are still there and them being downplayed doesn’t help with the healing. I have lost so much time wailing in the shower and each time I do, I tell myself to be better to my own self next time. I cannot keep disappointing her.
I have been told to go to therapy and each time it did not feel like genuine advice. I fully recognize that I don’t have to perceive it as such, but when they tell me to go to therapy it is because I only bring pain to the family. I am dysfunctional so I should be fixed.
Everything I’ve written so far has had a dash of disbelief. But moving forward, I am certain of a few things about myself:
1. I do not have to empathize or be empathized with to feel like a relationship is functional. I can never fully understand what a person is going through, and oftentimes I do not even care. I only want trust. There can be problems, we can always find solutions. But I do not want to be villainized anymore simply because I do not share the same emotional trauma. I want something that feels safe.
2. I have problems and I cannot let them make me feel lesser of myself. Other people have problems and that does not justify how they treat myself, how they treat others.
3. I think removing myself from the painful environment is much better than talking about the problems of that environment.
4. I will never tell a person to get therapy. They have to want to get it. I am in no position to diagnose other people of their mental instabilities. This may be painful to admit, but I am not especially compassionate to someone who has been depressed for so long. I can understand if they cannot get up to take a bath or be motivated to go to work. But I will be angry if their habits have crossed far beyond tolerant boundaries.
5. I want to heal.
Wandering Goldfish 