I've been going to Therapy for almost a year now. It'll be 10 months in January. I first went to Therapy because I had a little bit of a meltdown during my trip to Italy. I had a fight with my mom that ended in a heart to heart and the realization that I couldnt push Therapy away anymore.
So I called the therapist that treated my mom and dad and went to my first visit.
And my second.
And my third.
And now I am here.
Therapy has helped me tremendously. I've come to understand why I am how I am. I have learned tools to dealing with my issues.
However, I still dread going to therapy. I dread it so much. It gives me anxiety.
Sometimes, I wish I would have never gone.
Sometimes, I envy those that have never been to therapy.
Sometimes, I just wanna go back to when I was naive and uninformed.
I always end up feeling guilty and even worse for thinking this. And I dig myself a bigger hole of self pity. Here I am with all these tools and I dont want to use them.
I hate conflict. I hate conflict with people. With myself. I hate opening up. I hate having to deal with emotions because it's easier not to. I hate having to put words to my feelings. I hate feeling bad.
Anxious.
Hurt.
Deceited.
Let down.
Grieve.
Sad.
Angry.
My parents always taught me that my emotions shouldn't control my actions. I think I took that to heart and just shunned all my feelings.
My hatred with emotions and feelings runs so deep.
It's not hatred. It's fear.
I fear emotions and feelings and it runs so deep.
I don't watch romantic movies. I don't like reading anything except for sci-fi and non-fiction. I don't like writing and I'm not good at it. I don't like sappy songs. I don't like conflict. I don't like pets. I dislike Christmas and Thanksgiving. The list just goes on. Basically forever. God, even my automatic response to everything is "I'm fine." "It'll be fine." Regardless of whether I will actually be fine or everything is actually fine.
Why am I like this?
I just wish I wasn't and everything was actually fine.
Will I ever be fine?
I wish I knew.
