An excerpt from an email/stagnation

Here is part of an email I wrote to T on Friday:

I don't know where I am going in therapy. I wanted to tell you today that for the first time in three and a half years, I feel like I could do without therapy-- and as we know, this is during the most difficult part of my life that I have ever experienced. I want to process why this is. I wanted to tell you this today. But none of it came out. I feel as though I am not able to be helped mainly for two reasons: One is that I feel my grief is inconsolable, and always will be. I don't understand what therapy can do for this. The other reason is that I cannot seem to let go of not wanting to get better, yet wanting relief at the same time. How can I progress when I sometimes do everything in my power to make sure that I remain sick? I am so tired of becoming wildly enthusiastic about the next thing that might work-- meditation, yoga, becoming involved in Judaism, various creative modalities, joining a gym, kickboxing, natural healing, etc. I convince myself that each of these things might work-- some of them, I throw myself into. They feel authentic, they seem to take me to a new level-- and then it is over as quickly as the idea came upon me. I abandon the ones that feel right, not only because I tire of them in depression, but because I am afraid. So much of my identity has been formed around pathology. The idea of not wanting to get better is part of the sickness itself. I am feeling stagnant in therapy. I am confused. I want to give up in my current state, but also in my current state I am wild about photography, looking forward to getting a new camera and a photo printer for my birthday, and going back into nature once it gets warmer. Yet I spent the whole day today contemplating the possibility of doing something just drastic enough to possibly warrant a hospitalization. I want to be taken seriously. I want to be seriously ill. I want everyone to see how seriously ill I can be. Or how I already am. I wanted to do something to stop tomorrow so that I wouldn't have to face it.

Ugh, I feel so stuck in therapy lately. In my email, I am trying to sort out this confusion of not wanting to give up psychological pathology-- which has become part of my identity. When I was a little girl, my mother would always show her most caring parts when I was sick with a cold or a stomach flu or whatever. Of course, she had an anxiety disorder so she would completely smother me and give off anxious vibes-- but it was still a nice change from her always napping and never spending time with me.

Part of me not wanting to get well is not only losing this part of myself, but the fear that if I am not suffering psychologically, no one will care about me or pay special attention to me. I think this is a pathology in itself though. Sometimes I even self-sabotage by self-injuring randomly-- when I don't even feel that need that I used to feel-- but I do it to ensure that I am still "sick." I do it to ensure that I am taken seriously because for so long no one took my psychological stuff seriously.

I don't know where the hell I'm going in therapy. Sometimes I feel like I don't need it anymore. I think this comes from losing my dad-- it only confirmed that the few people I am most connected with can disappear at any time. I think the other part of it is that I was so dependent on my father. Now I have to learn to navigate life without him-- so I feel that I might as well navigate life without needing T as well.

How do I find myself within the context of therapy after losing my dad? It is like therapy had part I and now has part II. How do I incorporate what I was working on before while I spend each session expressing inconsolable grief? We were supposed to do EMDR around the trauma and shock of losing him. We were supposed to work on the fact that I never really individuated from my father. I think that if we work on these things it will not only be a direct process regarding the loss, but it will also span out to issues that I have had surrounding abandonment all of my life, including the present.

Can anyone relate to being afraid of getting better? Does anyone want to maintain their sickness? Does it feel like part of your identity?

This is a hard one to answer, yes I have had those thoughts - if im better I will be back to fighting alone - I'm not thinking straight tonight so forgive me if I stuff up - I am afraid of feeling better - I am afraid because it seems enevitable that the pain will return as it is always in the background - the same as the SI/SU thoughts............. if you are in the middle of it sometimes it is easier - not the right word.... to cope - I'm used to the bad feelings....... I'm not used to feeling good

I think it is part of the healing journey - I read somewhere that first we want someone to rescue us - that is stage one - stage two is wanting to find someone to stand with us - stage three is being able to stand alone - we go back and forward through these stages - you have been through a lot - please try and take care of yourself

I dont know if this makes any sense - havnt had a lot of sleep -

Please dont do anythign drastic - there are people here who care for you - no matter where you are on the healing road - I am one of them please take care of you - I know its hard (understatement of the year ) at times it seems impossible - somehow - soemtimes - these times that hurt us the most - help us to heal - please take care of you P7

I hope you can keep slogging through the mud/stagnation, pink. In my therapy it helped. I was in there for 9 years. . . twice :-) Keep reminding yourself that you can't see too well when you're in the trenches, digging them. It's only when you're further on at the "next" place that you can look back and see what the point of that digging was.

I know that too much of my identity is wrapped up in my bipolar, which is somehow ironic because I made certain my identity wasn't wrapped up in my PTSD.

There was a time when I felt like this - when I started AA a few years ago and, without drinking to numb myself, my ugly past started rearing my head and all of the PTSD crap started. Someone told me that someday, all of that scary stuff from the past wouldn't be such a big part of me and my life anymore - and I honestly wondered....then what would be LEFT of me? I pictured myself as a big empty shell...my past (and resulting PTSD) was the only identity I HAD.

I don't really feel like that anymore. I want, badly, to heal and to be happy and whole. Although the process of getting there sucks so much sometimes that I do question if it's worth it. But I think it is...