In my therapy session tonight, I made myself vulnerable and then tried to back pedal but it was too late. When I feel too exposed, naked and vulnerable in my sessions I start acting goofy and use nervous laughter to try to hide. There’s shame behind the laughter.
I can’t hide, and I don’t want to hide, but these distracting behaviors are involuntary, almost against my will. They’re like reflexes. I still have trouble connecting to and confronting my emotions, but I’m getting closer and I think that’s what’s causing the nervous laughter and fidgetiness. One of these days, all that hurt behind the shame is going to come gushing out.
A few days ago I emailed him the address of my other blog. Yes, I did. Just the link (I can’t share this one yet). No note, no explanation, just the link by itself. Obviously I wanted him to see it or I wouldn’t have sent the link. but I didn’t want to bring it up tonight or talk about it at all. I didn’t want to ask him if he looked. Doing that would make me feel too exposed and vulnerable. I don’t feel judged by him at all, just too emotionally naked. But I’ve made myself so.
I couldn’t avoid it. He brought it up and said he’d read quite a bit and I found it hard to talk about, even though everything he said was complimentary. I blushed and stammered and giggled like a 12 year old meeting her crush. It was alright with me that he read the material (more than alright) but I couldn’t confront the idea of him talking about it in session.
I always back away at that very moment I want more than anything to feel connected. How borderline is that? I sometimes feel like I’m watching myself, observing everything I do, every reaction I have, and can point to the emotions as they manifest in my body. But I can’t always name them, and I can’t stop intellectualizing about them rather than letting myself fully experience them. It’s like I’m talking about someone else sometimes. I know I’m making progress, however slowly, but I’m so walled off from myself. I don’t think my therapist is allowing me the safety of hiding, I think he’s making me confront my true self. But all my stupid defense mechanisms go into overdrive to fight against the shame involved in that. I want to tell them all to go to hell and let me unfold.
I think sexual abuse is in my background, probably very early. I have reason to think so, even though I have no actual memories.