Imagine your mother in law is coming to visit. You know she is quite critical of how clean and neat your house is and how well you are taking care of ‘her boy’. You want everything to be perfect so there is no room for criticism. So you start stuffing things into the junk closet; magazines, shoes, sports gear, books, newspapers and bills, most of your DVD collection, clothes, both clean and dirty. You name it, if it is making your house look untidy it goes in the closet. You even find room to stuff the never used treadmill in because you know if you leave it out, she will only find reason to comment of your weight and how slim she was when she was your age. To shut the closet door, you have to hold a basket ball and tennis racket in with your left foot, while your left hand is trying to hold in the last minute box of papers that don’t have a hope in hell of fitting in, but you think that if you only keep it in there long enough to get the door closed, everything will be alright. Finally you get the door closed and all of the mess is safely tucked away, out of sight, out of mind.
Imagine what happens when your mother in law leaves and you open the closet door to find a bill you need to pay. You will be knocked over by the swell of stuff pouring out of the open door unless you can shut that door again.
That is how I feel today. I feel like, for a very long time now, I have been stuffing the ‘closet in my head’ full of all of my stuff – my bad experiences, my thoughts, my emotions, things I don’t ever want anyone to know, things that I don’t have answers for, things I never want to think about or feel ever again. All of it is stuffed in my head and talking to the psych yesterday, I feel like I have opened up the door of the closet, only the slightest crack, but I feel like there are a million things bursting to pour out. I feel like I need to talk and talk and talk until I am all talked out, to get it all out into the light so maybe I can look at it, sort it out and figure out what I keep and what I throw out. But it’s 2 weeks until my next appointment and an hour isn’t long enough to talk about it all anyway, so now I am madly trying to stuff everything back in, out of sight so the temptation (or desire or need… I am not sure which) to talk is shut away again.
At least my energy is currently diverted to something other than worrying about ivf and whether or not this cycle will happen lol!
1 comment:
this is the inevitable result of starting therapy. My suggestion? write and write and write. Use the pages as backgrounds for an art journal if you want and paint and collage over them but first put the words down. Then they are safely somewhere and don't need to stay in your head.
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