Therapy can be outright torture at times. I’m talking about psychotherapy that is. I used to tell my son when he was young it was the “talking doctor.” I can’t recall making it through a single session with any therapist without shedding a tear. I am what you would call, an emotional, or “highly sensitive person.” A psychologist actually coined that term, her name is Elaine Aron. Her book, appropriately titled, The Highly Sensitive Person is all about people who feel overwhelmed and overstimulated by the world. I’ll talk about that some other time.
Soooooo, many tears are shed during therapy sessions, hence the investment in facial tissues. My life reads somewhat like a soap opera, and sounds quite entertaining when it is all laid out in chronological order. When I tell just snippets, it sounds like utter chaos. That’s how it feels too. So imagine sitting down with a third therapist in 15 years and having to explain how I got to this point. Ugh. Double ugh. I shouldn’t be crying about things that happened 15 years ago, but when severely depressed, everything hurts. I sound like that stupid antidepressant commercial. So which pill can help THAT? I don’t think there is a pill to plug up the flood. Probably shouldn’t be either. Like other bodily fluids, better out than in. Eeww, right?
I guess I can only justify the tears in relation to what Therese Borchard (author of book & blog Beyond Blue) said about the butterfly emerging from its cocoon; it needs to struggle to get the fluids moving in its little body and so its wings will be strong enough to fly. The butterfly is known as a symbol of hope. I want to be strong enough to fly again. My therapist is going to help me work on that. She promised.