This is not my first therapy stint. In fact it’s my 3rd or 4th. I never felt that I was accomplishing anything other than seeing if I could win the staring contests that usually ensued. I was rather good at that too. I say 3rd or 4th because one of those stints was an intensive outpatient therapy program that I was put into under doctor orders. What was this therapy for? My addiction. Yes I believe I can talk about it today. Not everything, else you wouldn’t have anything to read later, but some of it. Maybe it will help me to try and understand myself better.
This comes about from a breakthrough of sorts in therapy today. I had missed a few sessions because of my crazy life schedule. My depression has taken a nose dive and thus Howard was trying to help me figure out why. Which is always funny because I don’t know why, so how does he know why? But anyways, it is nice to feel like you’re in a judgment free zone and can talk about things like this. And there I go off track again.
Addiction. Remember how I said I’ve built up walls? Well we were discussing these walls. How I’ve built them so high that not only do they keep people out and myself from getting hurt, they also keep my emotions inside. They are so well hidden that I do not experience emotions normally. I will experience them, but on a time delay of sorts. What do I mean by that? Well more of I have this building pressure inside of me that hurts, and I know that there is something there that I am suppose to be feeling, but I don’t know what it is. It causes me to be frustrated and irritated, but unable to experience what I should at the time, but at some later time, this emotion comes out in various forms, but for what seems to be no reason and at the most inconvenient times. And what does that mean? Well how would you like to be working, and suddenly for no reason start crying and not be able to control it. Or just get incredibly excited and happy while you’re at a funeral or some other serious event? These are the types of things that happen to me. Delayed reaction emotions. It’s most irritating and frustrating.
Anyways, how does an addiction enter into this picture you ask? Oh I’ll tell you. I developed the addiction of self harming in the form of cutting myself. Thus my outpatient therapy group. And not only was there group therapy, but also one on one counseling. 4 hours a day, 3 days a week. It was like a part time job. The goal there was to over come this addiction, but was done without addressing and trying to figure out why it started. I never really questioned it because I was so far deep inside of myself, I couldn’t understand anything that was going on. But the point I had reached was numbness. I had built my walls so well, that I was in a fortress. A huge massive fortress with a mote and a fire breathing dragon guarding it and I was in the highest tower type of fortress. Yes, this was close to when I was contemplating suicide, but that’s for another time.
Any who, the self harming started as a way to not cope, but to feel. I was desperate to feel anything, and to control what and when I was feeling something. I didn’t want to have these crazy out burst and have everyone staring at me and questioning my sanity, I do enough of that all on my own. It helped. Each time I did it, I felt more and more in control and for brief moments, I felt human, alive. Not this emotional zombie, that was stalking around looking to feel something or anything. This had gone on for a while until my psychiatrist noticed the cuts and knew what they meant, and thus welcome to intensive outpatient therapy. You’re new home for the next few months.
Why do I bring this up now? Remember how at the beginning I mentioned that I’ve taken a nose dive with my depression? In the past 2 weeks I feel as everything has been falling apart. Had one person afraid I’d do something drastic because I wanted, and still do to a point, to finally feel at peace. Well my emotions have been going haywire, especially at work again, and the other night when I felt I couldn’t take it anymore, I was ready to go back to my nasty little habit to try and feel and get a release. I had my knife out and was all set to make myself feel better, when my 4 legged hero walked into my room and laid down on my lap and gave me licks. But to come so close to that again, I didn’t think I should withhold that information from people. I want to share what I go through with people, and this is the only way I can think of for now to share. I know I cannot be the only one that gets to these points, and while I feel as if I’m a failure to reaching this point again, I want others to know they’re not alone, and that there is hope. It’s been over a year since the last time I did that. And before that, 7 years. I made it 7 years. For that, I am proud.