what if being a mess isn’t relevant?

This is the question my therapist asked me this evening via skype (she is still in america and I just can’t face moving onto a new therapist just yet so we still are at it, electronically face to face. Showered with electronical blips, there is quite a lot of entertainment – and frustration – to be had. But we do eventually get there one day. At times I really worry that I should be finding someone else. That considering what has happened, where I am at and how much I am struggling, I surely need more than just speaking to her twice a week? But what I try to trust is that it really does help. She has been the only consistency in this mayhem, chaos and turmoil. The thought of losing that and changing to someone new, who knows nothing but a few, leaves me petrified. It leaves me with a lump in my throat, a knot in my stomach that I am staying with her, and not moving on, but I think this is my head telling me I shouldn’t still be with her. I should be seeing someone here. A professional. An expert. But, if she makes me happy – if she makes me feel connected, if she makes me feel as though I can do this, she knows my story more than any friend knows, then I should stay with her for now. In fact, there are no ‘should’s’ involve, it is what is happening and how my heart feels. My gut says to change is definitely needed at some point – I know it. I know it to be true. It’s not just an anxiety, it’s a feeling too. But it is not quite strong enough or encompassing enough to be 100% and completely true. At least I hope not. I worry I need to change but I am just scared basically. And that’s okay, isn’t it? I’ve always dived straight in when I’ve been scared, but it’s okay to take a moment, or several moments (months/weeks) to pluck up the balls to dive in, right? Right. I am over knocking myself off my pedastool so strongly and destructively but determinedly…it’s time for a bit of trust, a bit of honesty, a bit of faith, a bit of patience, a bit of gentility.)

Anywayy, I was meaning to talk about what we spoke about. A significant chat, as it always seems to be.

She said,

‘What about trying to think that being a mess isn’t relevant?’

I hadn’t thought of that.

‘What if it didn’t matter?’

I had kind of thought of that, but the thought of that, freaked me out. This not mattering? The mess I feel, not mattering? The fact that I feel a stranger to myself sometimes, not mattering? The fact I can feel I have dwindled with a breakdown and need to keep on this path, of healing rest and recovery, otherwise it will just happen again…not mattering?

‘No.’

‘What if those that are there for you, and are there to support you through these kind of times, are the ones that matter? The ones that aren’t there, don’t.’

‘What if it is your messyness that makes you loveable?’

Loveable? Hell that weirds me out. But in my heart I know that is possible. I am starting to perhaps see that it actually is. I don’t quite get it, but I do see/feel I know it.

‘What if what happened to you wasn’t because of anything you have done, or did? What if it just happened?’

‘What if you were just caught up in procedure and the fucked up system in the American hospitals?’

‘What if they were just covering their backs?’

There are a million things I could answer to all that. The latter just makes me begin to fume. And if that makes me fume then that means I have respect for myself. That means I know I am worth the fight. The fight that statements like that leave me determined to win.

Good night all. Keep it up. x

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