Lying here, far too late in bed. It’s warm and cosy, and the rain is pelting down outside.
Last night was weird. My therapist and I just talked about how I’ve been during the month she was in China.
Her first words to me were, “wow, you look really great. How have you been?”
I’m recovering from boils, cold sores and strep throat. But apparently rocking it 😝
I dunno. I only cut twice in that month. We talked about that. What was happening to trigger those times.
The thing is, I’ve said it a lot, I do it when I can’t bear the pain any longer. When I want to stop living. Stop feeling. She understands. But wants to know the specifics of what triggers it.
So, I just told her it is always at night. And always when I remember how sweet, how loving, how tender Roger is. And then the mind movies of him doing all of the sweet, kind, tender, sexy things he did to me, he is doing to her. It fucking kills me. And I generally use diversion and self talk to try to stop romanticising what he and his Trinket do. Kirsty started to help me unpack it. She said, how can he have with her, what you feel he had with you? There is a lifetime of history, mutual friends, children, building a life together, you grew up in the same town, know the same stories, etc. It’s like kinship. Deep, deep connections. My reply is that the newness and compliance of Trinket makes her more attractive than me, the used up, sad and abused ex. I am scrap. Rubbish. Had it. Honeymoon sex. His tenderness gets me the most. Those kisses, that soft touch. Yeah, rough, urgent sex too (OMG!) but the soft, fawning all over each other, ugh.
She also asked me about my nightmares. Did they escalate after our last session? I told her about my MIL chasing Trinket with a knife. And we discussed what my MIL would have thought, and indicated clearly that she did think about Roger continuing to cheat on me. She was not pleased. Her favourite child. But felt so bad for me. I did love that woman.
But, I also said that I am finally starting to properly deconstruct my own story. My construct of who we were. I know I must have somehow idealised us. Because the deep, reverberating shock I felt of firstly his looong straying with Leanne, then the two year secret hunt for my replacement, means he never felt about us, as I did. That we were deeply, forever connected. That our love was somehow “special,” unbreakable. Ha! Sure. Told myself a really good story, obviously. That was never anyone’s truth, but mine. It makes me ache with such deep pain that I must have lied to myself. That my version of love is so very different to the man I love’s version.
Anyway, I asked if she was happy for me to go to fortnightly sessions, instead of weekly, going forward. We’ll get stuck into the EMDR again next time. To finish processing these very stuck traumas.