I spend an unhealthy amount of time trying to decipher T. Thinking about T.
Monster, monster, monster, you are a monster, my little About. Monster.
And I know, I know my interpretations are all f***ed up, and yet, I cannot not believe them. Like... I know that they are probably just the result of my twisted mind being crazy, but yet, I can't decide to not believe them, because... that would be self-indulgent. But it also means I am guilty to have them, and to feel bad about them, because I should know better. I am responsible for my own hurt, since my rational mind can see that those interpretations are not necessarily true.
Event 1: So I gave T a drawing. She said she would hang it in the office. She did not. Of course, who would think it was good enough, and even more, who would want to have something reminding them of me? Of course, no one would want that, having a reminder of disgusting me.
Event 2: She said I could call, if I needed help to not SI. I sent an email to say I could not call. She said she was glad I had send an email. I understood she actually did not want me to call/did not think I “deserved” it, since she hasn’t insisted. I understood that sending an email was not okay, because people can be glad of something but still think it is not okay.
Event 3: So I said “btw, I have been feeling quite suicidal and decided twice to die last week” (and reached for help the two times). She said she was not going to insist on keeping me alive because this was my choice. So, she really doesn’t care. It’s normal. I always knew it. It is what I had always been sure of: I don’t deserve care. She finally confirmed it. It would have been quicker, easier, to go there right away. Or she finally realised that I was not supposed to be cared for, that, for the greater good, I should not, even if it is what I wish so much, it is precisely what I must never get. And she thinks I am doing it/feeling that way just to have attention, so not caring is the logical answer. It both hurts and feels good. At last, I get what I deserve.
I hate Me.
Now I am... numb. Like ... enough to bump into cars because I did not feel concerned by being on my bike. The outside feels like a movie, my character is in it, but I am not. I am nowhere, so I can't be hurt, right? I am less sad, because I am gone. SIing did not make me come back to feeling something. I just feel tired, because everything is pointless. It's a movie but I forgot the plot, I probably fell asleep.
I will try to avoid my bike tomorrow, I fell 3 times because I did not notice there was a car/I had stopped/I don't know the last time I just fell. Being out/off doesn't go well with it, it seems.
And I am 'afraid' (if such a thing makes sense while being numb) of telling T about that. Because... what if she says I am entirely right? 1) I am so ashamed of feeling all this, 2) what if she confirms that she really thinks I am a monster? I am not sure how I would be able to deal with it.
How can I stop feeling guilty about KNOWING that I am supposed to feel okay and yet still feel hurt? I just don't understand what I am supposed to do, to feel, whatever! Whatever I do, I feel guilty and ashamed, there must be at least one option which does not make me a terrible person?
I am also thinking about asking her to switch to 2 sessions a week until December’s break. I have no idea whether it is something that “could be done” or which is done in therapy. The thing is, I do have HUGE anxiety about the fact that I will lose T at the end of the school year and won’t have time to “get through” the important things before them. And I am also extra needy because I am the monster (so… it would be giving in, which would be bad). But… it would give me more sessions before I leave, which may (or may not) reassure me and therefore help me actually focusing on the work instead of focusing on panicking. But… maybe therapy is about panicking. I am just thinking it might be a way to ‘cope’ with all this more easily. Then again, I am also quite afraid of becoming too dependent. And having T saying ‘no’ would hurt like hell, so I am not sure I can go through the shame and the risk of ‘rejection’. And I have no idea whether this is a good idea or not.