My head has had a rhythm today.
It is repetitive and soothing, in a way, until I really listen to the words.
I want T1. I want T1. I want T1.
I need. I miss. I choose.
This weekend has been a horrible shock. My parents… I don’t like them. I love them, of course I do, but I don’t like them. They are judgemental and abusive and rude. They insult me and my lifestyle and my home. They make derisive, hurtful comments. I love them, but I do not like them.
All day today inside my head that rhythm has been playing. I need her, I want her. It is horribly sad but, between my boyfriend, my best friend and T1 (not neglecting the other therapists I’ve had, just, T1 has really cracked it), I’ve seen what relationships that are not fundamentally judgemental and abrasive can be like.
Normally I lie down and play dead (…something they taught me?). This weekend I’ve fought. No, you cannot dictate our Christmas plans. No, I am going to eat that starter and no, I don’t care about the calorie content. No, I am not going to get rid of our horses. No, I like our wall that colour. Because I’m fighting, they’re shocked and my mother is in complete meltdown – how can she squash me, how can she find control now?
T1 listens every week to the darkest, most destructive parts of my soul, and this week she really hammered it in to my thick skull that her care for me is not dependent on what I’ve done or who I am. I am aware I pay her to tolerate me – but it’s much more than that, emotionally, for me. She’s a real person, who doesn’t take my flaws and twist them and stab me with them. Hell, half of my flaws she refuses to even see as flaws!
I want to surround myself with more people like that.
Time for bed, with Kali curled between my fingers in one hand, and a handful of tissues in the other. It’s been a long time since I cried myself to sleep because of something my mother said. But I have a funny feeling something has clicked, and this might be the last.
Let’s hope so.