Today I had couples therapy with S. Out of respect, I won’t discuss the content. But it was as I prepared myself for, emotional, confronting and painful. I’m so glad S was able to communicate his feelings though.
I left feeling, well, hopeless I guess. No anger towards S, well, none that I recognised at the time. Just feeling like a failure and unworthy. But sad for S.
This evening I had psychodrama. I doubted my capacity for more confronting stuff. I was already drained and tired. My head hurt and as it was a cold evening, the desire to sit by the fire and get an early night was overwhelming. But I went. It’s my routine now and to deviate would be a slippery slope to giving up.
There were a handful of dramas. None really related to me. But somewhere in the midst of all the talking and sharing something gave way in me. A grief, a sadness, a loneliness. And during a drama I started to cry. Real fat tears, heaving sobs. The dam that I so closely guard was broken. The raw pain and discomfort engulfed me. I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t leave. I sat alone in my sobs, trying to be quiet.
The facilitator noticed. At the end of the drama he invited me on stage to confront these feelings. I didn’t decline. In our discomfort we grow and in our vulnerability is strength and learning.
I explained I was raw from the couples counselling. The facilitator, M, he pushed for more and it gave away easily. My drama was myself confronting S.
“I thought you were the one man that wouldn’t hurt me. But you abandoned me. You couldn’t handle me and you walked away, as I suspected you would.”
“I can’t take your shit anymore. You’ve constantly tested me. You seemed to want an out. You’ve got it. I’m tired and too hurt to carry on like this. You’ve pushed me too far.”
“But I’ve been through so much. Faced so much, I don’t want to end after everything. I want to be with you. Please love me again.”
“You don’t want me or need me. I don’t need this, you’re too self absorbed, too full of your own issues. You’re selfish.”
“Please, love me. I’m so sorry for the way I’ve been. I’m changing, I can be better”
That was a snippet of my drama. A made up conversation where I could plead and cry and grieve. Where I could express my pain, my confusion.
The truth fully came out. My attack, the mental health issues, the police investigation. All of it laid bare.
I sounded pathetic, weak, whiney. Snot poured out of nose, my eyes watered like never before. My breathing was laboured. I was thrust into a place of doom, regret, hurt, anxiety, loss of control. And I stayed with it.
Throwing caution to the wind, I’m owning my pain. I created a ‘safe’ conversation to allow my pain to come out. The therapy was safe, but the session wasn’t about me as an individual, it was about us. Psychodrama allowed me to dictate a conversation. Create a conversation where I was able to preempt S’s words, his responses and say what I felt in that moment.
In short I experienced a painful but very real expression as a reaction to not just today’s therapy, but the last year.
In this, the feedback I received was recognition of strength (which I kind of doubt to be honest), that I wasn’t ready for any relationship. That S was long gone and throwing myself on my sword for nothing was not going to work.
I feel completely drained. Like my insides are hollowed out. My head hurts terribly and the sense of loneliness is overwhelming. I also feel some embarrassment at my breaking down and being so honest about EVERYTHING.
I’m told I’ll find peace. I’m told I’m surviving and will continue surviving.
I believe that.
But I don’t feel very good right now.