Raw, exhausted, and unfiltered, I arrived at my therapist’s office yesterday. I sat in my familiar spot, really just feeling…overwhelmed? Matter of fact? Drained?
All those things.
You see, feeling stuck is a hard thing for me. I think A LOT. I wonder. I wonder if I want to be stuck. I wonder if moving on is scary because that means people won’t help me anymore. Then, I get mad at myself for wondering if that is a possibility–how could I be that unhealthy?
Is that even why?
Yesterday, I did another EMDR session. I focused on an image of me–barely treading water, sticking my head out, trying to breathe. That image embodies the magnitude of emotion–overwhelmed, holding on for dear life.
Surviving.Except–if you know me, I want to do more than just survive.
I want to feel. I want to be happy. I want freedom.
I am not a negative person. On the contrary, I am quite optimistic…always hopeful.
But, there has been this transformative thing happening to me. Sharing my past, opening up all those old, suppressed emotions, has cracked me totally open.
However, instead of continuing to heal and grow, this big hole–this huge sense of loss and grief and injustice–has anchored itself right in my chest.
It is about my mom. It is about learning, as a child, not to need. It is about feeling insecure in her love–getting hugs and affection when she wanted them, but not when I needed them.
You see, this journey of mine? God, it has made me need people more than I’ve ever needed them before.
That though, that is the scariest thing I’ve ever had to navigate. I can’t trust that need. I worry, endlessly, that I need too much. That I AM too much.
I don’t know what a normal, give and take relationship really looks like. If I need too much, is that simply it? Will that friendship, relationship, whatever…leave? Will I cling tighter, out of fear, simply pushing them away even farther? That is what I do…
And the real problem? I see this fear. I feel this fear. I act on it.
I don’t know how to trust that relationships can be different than my mom.
…Which means I am struggling to just enjoy the relationships I have that aren’t like my mom.
That anchor sits in my chest. Piercing my heart, my lungs…making it hard to breathe. I want remove it.
I want to move on.