The one hour a week I see my counsellor is the only hour where I feel I lose control of my thoughts and feelings. Sometimes even I’m surprised at what comes pouring out from me because the rest of the time it’s buried so deep within my soul that even I can’t reach it. Somehow, in that small space we occupy, he manages to bring it all to the surface and there is no holding back what’s been fighting its way out for so long.
I need to apologise because while everyone else around me gets the good me, he gets the bad and the ugly. In the real world I’m so used to presenting what people want of me and have this need to be seen as a good person. I put other peoples needs and feelings way above mine in order not to disappoint or be seen as a bad person. I’ve done it for so long that it’s not something I have to think about anymore. It comes naturally. When I’m in a counselling session and I let the mask slip and the walls come crashing down, I’m afraid of what might come pouring out. I need to apologise for assuming that he is okay with that side of me. Sometimes I get really angry and I swear and I panic and my brain runs away with itself and I offload a lifetime of shit onto this poor being who has done nothing to hurt me. Other times I dissociate and completely shut down. For me it’s fine, I’m out of the room. When I reflect on what he has to endure, I realise that he’s a person, sat with a broken, lifeless shell in front of him. Stuck having to deal with the awkward silence and the pressure to deal with what’s going on whilst he looks at the time ticking down til his next client and worrying how he’s going to make me okay enough to leave.
When I leave a session, I feel so guilty for having been so selfish in that time. I’m so used to considering everyone else’s feelings and opinions before my own. So why don’t I consider his? I’m ashamed of the way I behave in sessions sometimes. I feel as though I act like a spoilt brat who is entitled. I don’t mean to. It’s a biproduct of the shitstorm that’s released when I walk into that safe space. I worry that he dreads our sessions coming back around and agonise over what he says about me to his supervisor and colleagues.
I don’t want to be seen as the difficult one, the selfish, messed up, attention seeking person that I feel when I leave there. It makes me question whether that’s the real me at all. Sometimes I don’t know which one the real me is….. I’ve lost myself somewhere along the way and I’m not sure which parts are me.
I’m so sorry that I’m unpredictable. I’m so sorry that im complicated. I’m sorry that I show you my bad sides. I’m sorry that the only person who seems to give a shit about me has to see those sides of me. I’m sorry that I don’t know if that’s the real me, or whether I’m doing it for attention or something else.
Shrink(ing) Violet 