The urge to quit therapy, to just be DONE with all the confusion and pain and just LIVE, was very strong within me over the last few weeks.
There were problems with that, of course…if I quit now, I would still not be the person I want to be.
I’m not done. (Yet.)
Last Saturday, I sat on my therapist’s couch and emotionally confessed how much I just wanted to quit. It was true–I have been struggling so badly that I just felt like I didn’t have the energy to keep plugging along.
…And yet, I continue to journey onward.
If I don’t continue, where does that leave me? My eyes are now open to things that they will forever be able to see.
Dysfunctions. Boundaries. Triggers.
I can see these things–but I cannot always deal with them the way I should. There are lots of times when, due to what is going on around me, I just need to vent and dump it all out. Therapy is good for that.
…But therapy is also hard work. It isn’t for the weak.
…which is ironic, because I don’t often feel strong.
If my life were a color right now, it would be a dark, hazy gray. Life is murky. It isn’t pretty. It isn’t perfect. It is bumpy and painful and full of tears and anxiety.
But it is also mine, and I have no choice but to live it–and, because I am a hopeful person, I continue with the journey, slowly, slowly moving forward, one day at a time, one therapy session at a time.
I have spent enormous amounts of time un-learning what I have learned about myself. Un-becoming all the things that aren’t really me.
I have spent even more time fighting myself–over-thinking, over-analyzing, over-criticizing.
The process is grueling. And lonely.
But, when I start to really feel down about what life is throwing at me, I know I can count on therapy…it is there, waiting. Supporting. Pushing.
And, I am here, doing. Growing. Becoming.
I want to quit, but I don’t. I keep going.
…And that, that is something. 💛