This break from the blog isn’t working out very well, is it? Maybe I can’t be all or nothing about the blog, maybe I can just write now and then. I actually wrote this last Friday, because at my t session last Tuesday I left feeling, “How was that therapeutic?” And I decided not to think about it, that an idea would just come to me. And it did, on Friday. Here is what I wrote:
I liked last week’s session. I cleared up my misunderstanding about “why do I keep coming back?”, I explained why I fear illness and aging and I talked about stopping my writing in my blog. I talked a lot.
It took me three days to figure out what was therapeutic about this. But I think what I have come up with, is my fear of vulnerability and my fear of what other people think about me. I think everything I said last week was boring, or stupid. My whole story about growing up with a sick father and sister, the ridiculousness of going on and on about The Wrestler. I’m sure I was a dull, boring person and the only reason anyone would listen to me is if I am paying them.
But maybe it doesn’t matter what I talk about. Well, it does. But one of the therapeutic aspects of this is changing distorted beliefs about what people think about me, and being less reliant on what other people think about me in order to feel good about myself.
It matters what I talk about, because I also need therapeutic help in allowing myself to become more vulnerable, and the way to do that is to share parts of myself that I don’t usually share. So, yes, I could go in and talk about the latest People magazine (if I actually read it) and that would help with overcoming the distorted thoughts, but it wouldn’t help with the vulnerability.
However, and this is the tricky part, what if my thoughts about myself aren’t distorted? What if I really am a dull, boring person and the only way I can get people to listen to me is if I pay them? How will I know this? There are certainly boring people out there, and there is nothing worse than being boring and not knowing it.
So this brings up my distrust of people. I don’t trust that they are telling me the truth, I don’t trust that they aren’t saying behind my back, “That Harriet – she is beyond dull”, I don’t trust them not to laugh at me if I reveal something personal, or ignore it, or tell me I am being silly, to just get over it. I don’t know the therapeutic solution for this.