I don’t know what I want from therapy, or from life on an emotional level. I miss my dead mother. I am fed up fighting with my biological mother. I am tired of feeling low-grade upset all the time at friend stuff for no proper reason. Got my fingers burnt with romance stuff and the more therapy I do the more I see I am not ‘girlfriend material’. I have nothing to offer anyone, in terms of friendship or more.

I don’t want any of this anymore, but I can’t think of what I want to replace it with. I’m not quitting therapy for now because it feels like giving up if I do, but I honestly can’t see the point in it anymore. My therapist and I have had all these ups and downs, and now it’s going really well. Last week I felt a restoration of the level of trust I was at in March, before it got all messy. She has been very sensitive and loving over the last week in particular, helping me deal with some stuff I was struggling with.

Although it means a lot to me in one way, in another it just doesn’t matter. It’s like it has finally sunk through my thick skull that no, she will never ever be my sister or anything else outside the room, and now I feel a bit of me has lost interest, which I suspect is a protective mechanism. Dumb things like her telling me stuff about her personal trainer and a row with her sister give me a quiet jab of stupid, miserable pain because they’re people she wants to spend time with and not somebody she just wants to help be less of a f#ck up.

I feel so guilty about this. I feel like a user.

She’s been so good to me. I’m on the verge of accessing some major pain and sadness in session, and I think it will be alright, but…what is the point? So I truly experience the pain with her in the moment, and bawl my lights out in the session. I have questioned her and now am no longer worried about how she might respond – she’ll give me space if I want it and she’ll hug me if I want it, etc. But what difference can it make? It might feel freeing and like a relief in the moment, but then afterwards when I go home, I will still be on my own. It will be worse because it will be more real, and glaringly obvious that I have nobody else to call for support. Still not able to relax because I can’t feel safe anywhere, ever. I can imagine also, after finally allowing a burst of that pain out, I will need to medicate somehow. Which again is not good.

I almost feel like I cannot afford to get a taste for human comfort. I have been in therapy for over a year now, and my relationships are not any better. In fact, I’m probably more bewildered, because I know now how little I know at all about human connection.

I just don’t know what I want from it all.