Dear T,
I'm not okay right now. I'm trying to put a smile on my face, keep the plans I've made with friends, perform 100% at work, and do everything I need to do in order to get through life-- but I'm miserable. I feel like I'm falling apart inside. I feel like I want to scream at the top of my lungs.
I haven't felt this way in a long time; since before I met you. I just want to hide under the covers, curled up in a little ball, and escape. I want company, but company who is there to listen to me, support me, help me; not the other way around. I don't have the luxury of breaking down, though-- of letting go-- of being out of control, even for a moment. I have too much to do. Too many responsibilities. Too many people to take care of.
What I need from you right now-- well, at our next appointment-- is for you to let me break down. I need to hold my knees in to my chest, turn myself into a little ball, sob--like ugly sob
-- and get held and supported by you. I just can't talk anymore-- I've been talking all week. I'm sick of hearing myself repeat the same things. But what I haven't been able to do is cry. I don't know why; I just can't. I know I need to. I need your help. I need you to give me that safe space to cry; to be ugly; to let go; to break down. I need to know that's okay-- that I have a place where I can do that. That, for once in my life it's "okay" to cry in front of someone else-- and that, when I do cry, someone will take care of me. That they won't tell me to stop being a baby or buck up; that they will actually support me, nurture me, and make me feel better.
I'm afraid of disappointing you, though. I'm afraid of showing you that I'm not okay. I'm afraid of admitting that I struggle. That I'm depressed. That I'm unhappy. Just last month you were telling me how much progress I've made, how happy I seem and how nice it is to see me like that. A part of me doesn't want to admit I've sunk back-- I'm not happy and I'm not handling things well. I know I need to tell you the truth, that's what you're here for, but I'm still afraid of disappointing you.
Two more days. I just need to get through 2 more days. 2 more days until I see you.
Love,
ScorpioSis