Thoughts

It's a therapy day today... Again.
I'm not sure how I feel about that.
Friday's session felt... like talking about the latest Nescafe advert when you are standing on a chair with a noose round your neck.
Dramatic, I know.

It occurred to me the other day that this blog is a reflection of my journey.
I am dancing around all sorts of things, unable to actually voice anything... Kicking and fighting new realisations that challenge my own truths... Thinking up a million different lists to evidence the fact that I am, in fact, absolutely ok.
It's ridiculous. Absurd. What do I stand to gain from being dishonest with myself?

My therapist notices and explains that my mind fragments when I talk about certain things. I notice it too now. I imagine my mind to look like a snail which, when touched, shrinks until it disappears altogether. Short of smashing the shell, there's nothing you can do but wait.

It sounds like I have suffered horrendous abuse and all sorts of terrible traumas.
I haven't. I would make more sense to myself if that were the case, but it's simply not.