Self-therapy
I have't been too present in LJ for awhile, mostly because there has been so much going on, and so much tumult, that I couldn't find a way to translate it into verbal language, and then dilute it enough to place in such a public forum.
But bumping into friends and surprising them with admonitions about how hard my last month has been, has made me realise that it is perhaps time to share. Also, enough healing has transpired to perhaps let me attempt writing it this morning, if only to try to purge it from my head.
Easter weekend, I started a process to really look within myself and see what is, in fact, there. Letting go of promises to my German, stubbornness in proving that our relationship could work, and also of the idea that if one where to love enough and adapt enough, one could work through anything. I instead chose to claim my life back, and to find people who would truly let me 'be.'
I knew for awhile that there is a part of me that is always crying. Sometimes, either during sex or in kink play, I would pull so deeply within myself that I would nearly drown in my buried trauma. A previous play partner called it "minus ten" and would do his best to make sure that I wouldn't withdraw that much within myself. I described it as a pool of lava, churning, bowling, hurting, and I knew that one day I had to go down there and understand what it is and why it exists.
I have resisted formal therapy for a very long time. Many excuses, including knowing where the therapist is coming from anyway (having completed an honours degree in Psychology, and being am empath), and that it would take too much time and money to build raport before being able to get to anything substantial (and perhaps because my mother insisted that I should to), have always kept me from commiting, though I often fantasised about running away from my life and seeking some care, 'without strings attached.'
Between starting to look at that pool, and getting my Reiki level II, and spending more time voicing what I need to say...I have found a new metaphor. It's almost as though I have a gigantic iceberg inside me, and I have to scale this height, or beat at it until it chips away, in order to become a fully functioning human being. I have become more courageous in exploring parts of myself that hid behind that crevice, or within that cave (notably what I want out of kink play, and Gabriel, etc.).
I have also been profoundly surprised at how 'messed up' I truly am. I have a large social support network, including four partners, who have been slowly showing me that I am, in fact, lovable...that I am able to ask for things...that I can say "no."
I shouldn't be surprised that the first chunk of ice that I break off revealed a cave teeming with demons from my past sexual abuse. Of all the things to conquer first...or is it that it's the last thing that I need to really address, having pretty much bedded my anxiety disorder and my eating disorder? It's taken me about a month to realise that I have chipped off that chunk, and that these words best describe why I could not respond sexually to my partners.
(pause, as that last sentence was hard to write)
scubajim and I went on an overnight hike a couple of weeks ago, and during that time I asked him how he would feel if I said "no" to him, or brought him to a certain point and then changed my mind (looking back now, I see that it's dysfunctional thinking that "I" am the one who "brings" my partners to certain places, and am responsible for following through on "my" suggestions...)...tangent over. His absolute sincerity in telling me that it was fine, that he would go where I wasn't willing to go, and that he would enjoy being with me, regardless of how that expresses himself, made me feel so safe, so cherished, and able for the first time since Easter to enjoy sexual acts...he has always been a refuge since.
dagibbs and I were only able to 'enter date-space' with each other last Sunday...that was the first time since after Easter Weekend that we were able to just comfortably be together, without T-alking about our needs and the inability of the other to meet them, and whether it would be best if we broke up, and whether I was running away from him and purging as many people from my life as I can...Last night, during our date, I heard very loudly that I was loved...that I could ask for things...that stating my needs didn't make me selfish, or a little princess...and that he was *more* than willing to meet me wherever I was...that he cares for me and *wants* to take care of me...
pezchica has truly helped me keep my sanity during this month. She has been available for talks several times a day (including during nights that I couldn't sleep past 3am), and has often dropped plans for the day in order to spend the day with me, either working around the house when I was lonely, or snuggling me when I couldn't get out of bed from my own volition. That day she even climbed into the bath with me to wash my hair - I let someone else care for me that much!!! - as I could not do it on my own. She has been such a practical and am emotional care-taker for me...and I've been using her as my litmus test to see how healthy I am, and whether I am ready to become "the girlfriend" again without feeling guilt about not being the "perfect" girlfriend.
And in such moments of love, I feel a "pop" in my head, and more pieces click into place. I remember things from my past, and understand how they are still influencing how I am today.
I will not apologise for this process...but I will say that I know it's been a strain on us all. I can promise that I am doing my best, and that there is progress every day, if only to know how much more progress needs be made. It has been a frustrating, exhausting, healing, process to re-create myself...
...and between this and getting ready for the A.T., I am feeling stretched...in a good way...