Typically, when I come out of a counseling session, I am entirely content leaving everything behind me on the proverbial couch. But back in November I had the bright idea that I would start to journal after my sessions. It’s not going so great. Counseling itself is going fine, but the whole post-therapy reflecting – not good. Every so often though, a session just demands it.
I knew going in that this week’s was going to be one of those sessions. The kind in which I start crying at deep and prying questions like: How was your day? or Did you have a good weekend?
The type where I feel completely transparent, completely exposed, hoping when I leave that no one asks: Katy, are you okay? Because basically the answer to that is always no. If I don’t look okay, I probably don’t feel okay. And if I don’t feel okay, I probably don’t want to talk to you about it. I want to put the wall back up and put you decisively on the other side of it.
In fact, as I start getting closer to all those raw emotions, I’m discovering how little I want to talk to anybody. Supposedly that’s why I started to blog and pound out some of those feelings in my writing.
So here goes.
I am sad and frustrated and I feel really alone a lot of the time. Like, maybe even the majority of the time. But I work really hard at not feeling that way and harder still at making sure no one else sees when I’m feeling that way.
I’ve made sure the wall between us has fun, bright graffiti on it, covered in equal amounts poetry and punch lines. It’s a very presentable wall and I’ve spent somewhere north of 20 years building it. I am a master wall architect.
For the most part, my frustration boils down to a common problem; I want something that I simply don’t have. When I have a bad day, I want to go home and talk to someone about it. When I have a good day, I want to go home and talk to someone about it. I want someone else to empty the litter box or tell me they like my sweater or see me when my hair is really messed up in the morning and laugh with me. I want someone who matches me; someone who fits. (And I really do want someone else to empty the litter box.)
Unfortunately, these days that means I don’t want to hear about the little fights my friends are having with their husbands or their wives. I don’t want to know when their kids say silly things or dress up like a cowboy. It doesn’t make me giggly to hear about the “incident” with your lipstick or your husband’s briefcase. Actually, it makes me sad and sometimes, if I’m honest, a little bit mad. Not at you really, or your husband or your kids, just at life or myself or maybe my therapist for making me think about it in the first place.
All the little hurts, the single-moment memories that I’ve stored up like old wine bottles, have not aged well. And when I spend a 50-minute hour taking down those bottles for a taste, I can’t help but leave a little tipsy, not sure which way is up.
I do want to know about your kids and your partner and your silly stories. But you might need a little extra patience these days. That distant look isn’t because your kids aren’t cute, it’s because hearing about them makes me just the tiniest bit sad.
If therapy is teaching me anything, it’s teaching me that I’m not quite as wise and not quite as ready for the future as I thought I was. And that any significant change between me and the world outside my wall is going to take a little more transparency and a lot more time. Transparency with those who love me and can handle the bursts of crazy that come out, and a lot of time being honest with myself about where I am, what I want and why I’m not there yet.
Do you carry an unrealized dream around with you? How do you deal with those feelings?
I knew going in that this week’s was going to be one of those sessions. The kind in which I start crying at deep and prying questions like: How was your day? or Did you have a good weekend?
The type where I feel completely transparent, completely exposed, hoping when I leave that no one asks: Katy, are you okay? Because basically the answer to that is always no. If I don’t look okay, I probably don’t feel okay. And if I don’t feel okay, I probably don’t want to talk to you about it. I want to put the wall back up and put you decisively on the other side of it.
In fact, as I start getting closer to all those raw emotions, I’m discovering how little I want to talk to anybody. Supposedly that’s why I started to blog and pound out some of those feelings in my writing.
So here goes.
I am sad and frustrated and I feel really alone a lot of the time. Like, maybe even the majority of the time. But I work really hard at not feeling that way and harder still at making sure no one else sees when I’m feeling that way.
I’ve made sure the wall between us has fun, bright graffiti on it, covered in equal amounts poetry and punch lines. It’s a very presentable wall and I’ve spent somewhere north of 20 years building it. I am a master wall architect.
For the most part, my frustration boils down to a common problem; I want something that I simply don’t have. When I have a bad day, I want to go home and talk to someone about it. When I have a good day, I want to go home and talk to someone about it. I want someone else to empty the litter box or tell me they like my sweater or see me when my hair is really messed up in the morning and laugh with me. I want someone who matches me; someone who fits. (And I really do want someone else to empty the litter box.)
Unfortunately, these days that means I don’t want to hear about the little fights my friends are having with their husbands or their wives. I don’t want to know when their kids say silly things or dress up like a cowboy. It doesn’t make me giggly to hear about the “incident” with your lipstick or your husband’s briefcase. Actually, it makes me sad and sometimes, if I’m honest, a little bit mad. Not at you really, or your husband or your kids, just at life or myself or maybe my therapist for making me think about it in the first place.
All the little hurts, the single-moment memories that I’ve stored up like old wine bottles, have not aged well. And when I spend a 50-minute hour taking down those bottles for a taste, I can’t help but leave a little tipsy, not sure which way is up.
I do want to know about your kids and your partner and your silly stories. But you might need a little extra patience these days. That distant look isn’t because your kids aren’t cute, it’s because hearing about them makes me just the tiniest bit sad.
If therapy is teaching me anything, it’s teaching me that I’m not quite as wise and not quite as ready for the future as I thought I was. And that any significant change between me and the world outside my wall is going to take a little more transparency and a lot more time. Transparency with those who love me and can handle the bursts of crazy that come out, and a lot of time being honest with myself about where I am, what I want and why I’m not there yet.
Do you carry an unrealized dream around with you? How do you deal with those feelings?
Katy, I loved reading your blog post. I feel for you, and know that feeling all to well. I have had them, and at times still do. I have a good life, great husband, great kids, and now, grand kids... and still have that lonely feeling. I know why that is, but it is too hard for me to write down or even talk about. I just have to look at the good things in my life, and go with that. Even though I know I am the one that needs to change things, but it would hurt too many if I made the change that I "think" would make me happy. And that in my book is selfish. So... I think I just haven't found what it is that would make me feel excited about getting up in the a.m. ... I am in my 50's and still trying to figure that out, but still trying. I think alot of people feel as you do, and it is nice to see that we are not alone. I admire your courage.
ReplyDeleteFunny how we tend to "mask" the real us due to a society who has set their own standards for living life right down to standards on "controlling our emotions" by not letting the world see us raw or unedited in the very moment of time we need to be so we don't loose it. I mean for crying out loud...God created us with emotions, if He didn't want us to use them why would He create us with them? Giggles and shakes my head at how stupid and ignorant society has become. :) Or should I say so judgmental. I have learned over the years that I'd rather live life as me then to live life behind mask after mask because of society and their need to publicize what they feel is acceptable or not. It wasn't an easy journey though switching from living life under the hard puppet master called society who I felt had to control and dictate my every fiber of being for many years. It was only in 2008/2009 did I wake up one day with the revelation that I was in deed truly miserable living life to please everyone but the 2 I needed to please. Those 2 people being me and God. When I had this thought it was like I just gave birth to a baby elephant, seriously ( I can see you visualizing a woman giving birth to an elephant right now) STOP. GIGGLE GIGGLES! :) but as much struggle and pain it would be if I really had birthed an elephant was the same struggle and pain I had when I began to walk the journey of changing how I lived life. I fought against it, because it was a new concept, different then what I'd had been taught, so very lonely because I lost a lot of "friends". But now as I sit here in 2012 writing this comment to your blog, I have realized I'd encourage anyone and everyone to take the masks off (the roles society says we have to play and how to play them) and begin to cut the strings from the puppet master called society and begin to live a life of freedom. A life of freedom simply means being able to live a life where you are confident in who you are because the opinions, voices and standards that whisper daily to you have no power to influence you to live life...sure they may whisper, but their voice is silenced by your voice that says "I WOULD RATHER BE LOVED, ACCEPTED AND EMBRACED FOR WHO I AM...THEN FOR WHO I AM NOT WHILE LIVING A LIFE OF INNER TORMENT WHILE TRYING TO BE WHO I AM NOT."
ReplyDeleteI guess the whole point of my comment is to encourage you to continue being you....don't let the voices of others influence you to change...be the you (as chaotic, strange or crazy) as some may label you (I don't) but do it proudly and with confidence because at the end of the day you can go to bed saying "I was me and didn't miss out on a thing today because of that! Because while you are thinking that others will be laying down to sleep as an actor on the stage missing out on life's very finest because they chose to be someone else and didn't get to enjoy what was meant solely for them. :)
I really enjoy reading your blogs and look forward to the next one...You are inspiring, real and of course full of talent not commonly found! You are a diamond in hiding, so come out of hiding and shine bright!