So, I think I am at this place. The place where I can get past those horrible, frustrating, triggering, and often times painful moments without more therapy. At least for now. I cancelled my last two therapy appointments. I just wasn’t feeling it. But, never say never, right?
A couple things I love about the above. First, it was posted over the weekend by my 70 year old Aunt on her Facebook. I love that. I also love the 10 second part. Ten seconds is a pretty long time to be yelling at the top of your lungs. I picture myself doing this actually, and freaking out a bunch of people. Although I have a potty mouth on this blog, and Blue Eyes hears it (he started it, the swearing thing, I never used to swear AT ALL), I don’t in public. Sure, my kids hear me say the word Fuck… never in the literal sense of the word, of course, just as an expletive. I am myself with them. I want to be myself with everyone, but you know, some people frown on swearing in public and I am a rule keeper by nature. My parents didn’t swear. To be honest, I don’t really have that big of a potty mouth in real life, but I find it a great venting mechanism. In lieu of say, punching Blue Eyes in the face.
Back to therapy. At two years, five months, and 17 days, I am going to call an official tally. I have seen a total of five separate individual therapists, all women. Blue Eyes has likewise seen a total of five individual therapists, all men. We have seen three therapists for couple’s counseling, all women, all were my individual therapist first. Of all the individual therapy I partook in, I would say that one was really really helpful and others were not and a couple of them were fairly traumatizing to be honest. Blue Eyes, on the other hand, has received something valuable from all his therapists because, well, he has a shit load of wounds to deal with. For most of the time he has been open to therapy and getting to the bottom of his issues. I, on the other hand, really wanted to tackle my trauma and therefore, the only real healing related to therapy came from the highly trained trauma therapist who also understood sex addiction. She did not counsel me to stay. Her mission was to get me through the worst of the initial trauma.
As of now, the deepest wounds have healed. In many ways, I feel like a different person, but in most ways, I am the same. One of the most difficult parts of this journey has been dealing with the fact that while going through trauma, I had to weed through a bunch of shitty therapists to get to that one special person. It’s another one of those things that feels very unfair. Haven’t we suffered enough that we also have to be treated poorly by someone we are paying, someone who is supposedly trained in knowing how to deal with what ails us. Yeah, I know, life ain’t fair, Kat. I am now standing up and yelling FUCK at the top of my lungs for AT LEAST 10 seconds! Join me?