My therapy session on Tuesday left me feeling reflective. We talked about my family members who have died. I shared with her why I cried for a year after my brother died, and told her about him. I think she really understood why I loved him so much. I had never done that before. Even thinking about it now has me smiling. It was incredibly healing. He visited my dreams last night, but I don’t remember the circumstances. Just that I was glad to see him, and was aware it was a dream. He’s never far from my thoughts.
I’ve also shared with her aspects of my relationship with my Mom that have previously been private. I feel like my Mom is with me 24/7. Not a physical presence, but a lifelong acknowledgement. For my entire life, I’ve been in an ongoing internal conversation with my Mom. It’s so seamless, it’s like breathing. Even before I could speak, I thought my thoughts to her, and accepted her words as her answer. It wasn’t always logical, sometimes was hilarious, but was most often effective. When I left to serve in the Army, I continued. I had a good idea by then what my Mom would say in many situations. When we talked on the phone, I would report the incidents in which I used her “voice” to guide me through a tough situation.
It probably hasn’t been helpful when I talk to other people, though. I struggle with conversations. It’s a sophisticated dance between controlling my anxiety, and comprehending/staying present well enough to remain on topic in real time. In my eyes, I come off to others as having a low intellect, and an intermittent ability to connect with others. I know that in actuality, I have a high intellect, and suck at conversations. I do far better when I can type versus speaking aloud. But texting is ideal. I text back as soon as I notice. This could be immediately, or a few days. The time it takes to respond means nothing negative. I have 2 phones. I only give out the number for 1 of them. The other is an extension of my brain. I don’t even know the number for that phone.
Therapy is exhausting, but that’s not really a con. I’ve been sleeping regularly. Every single night I sleep now. For between 4 and 6 hours. I haven’t done that since I was in the Army. It’s a combination of a new sleeping med, having the mountain on my back excised, being drained from therapy, and not being afraid to go to sleep. The fact that I can run outside now is probably contributing as well. I like the awake me better. I despise feeling sluggish. It’s a panic trigger, which becomes a twisted level of hell, Dante style, when I don’t sleep. Fuck that. So I’m pleased with how it’s going.
I just found out that Prince is dead. I’m going for a run.