Therapy journey 

Today was therapy. I had a lot to process and discuss. I’ve kept myself so busy and not talked to anyone about what’s really going on for me. So this time is crucial to be real with myself and verbalise the tumble dryer of thoughts going around in my head.

I discussed the horrific nightmares, and my fears and loneliness surrounding that. I discussed how difficult it is, trying to initiate conversation with S. He’s always wanting to throw the past as me, repeat all of my mistakes, vent his frustrations at me. I understand he’s hurting, but it means there is no way to move forward in our conversation. To find an amicable solution or better ways to communicate.

I discussed my speech at the marae, the raw honesty of it that surprised me.

I discussed how my friends are encouraging this move with enthusiasm but don’t seem to relate to how much of a transition this is.

I talked about my frustrations of the court case in the UK. How I haven’t really processed everything that happened and my disappointment.

It all feels like so many different branches are growing a life of their own, throw in the daily challenges of life in general and I’m struggling to make sense of everything.

Suffice to say, in the space of an hour I pretty much just talked at the therapist. Desperate to get everything out like a huge inhaled breath had been released. 

In talking like this I felt numb. And still do. Processing it will come in the following days. 

Tomorrow I have psychodrama again. Then assertiveness the following evening. All in my quest to find new knowledge about myself and find a way to heal and be stronger.

I’m concerned that the nightmares are my mind trying to make sense of everything but I can’t sit with the emotions that arise from it. It’s too painful at the moment. 

This is usually where I’d come to rely on S for answers. For comfort and understanding. But as he’s not there for me, I’m scared. I don’t know what else to do.

Perhaps I am a far weaker person than I realised.

I’m taking huge comfort in my children. Enjoying their chaos and life. Their unconditional love and beaming enthusiasm for life.

But another part of me is empty and desperate to make sense of things. My therapist calls it the transition. She tells me to expect pain, loneliness, anxiety, fear, uncertainty. She tells me that the relationship I have with S is confusing, but can’t be defined because that’s all transitioning. 

I’m the sort of person that likes objectives and quantifiable output. This ambiguous ‘transitioning’ makes me feel out of control and unsafe. I feel vulnerable and I do know that in that is growth. But that doesn’t mean I like it! It doesn’t mean I don’t want it to stop.

I’m always on this mission to grow stronger and learn more. I want to be honest with myself. I want to be real in my journey.

But frankly, I’m so tired. I want to be scooped up and told its all going to be ok.

I want to be nurtured and kept safe from the pain of my life. But the truth is, only I can do that for myself.

Everything around me is fine sand falling through my fingertips. Hope is scarce and I wonder where and what my respite will be.

Why does life’s journey have to be so hard?