I went to therapy feeling annoyed with life. I left therapy angry at life. 

There have been a handful of times where I have really wanted to cancel therapy. I’ve wanted to skip it because I didn’t feel like talking about the things in my head. Today was one of those days. I didn’t want to talk to my shrink, not about my trauma stuff, not about the stuff in my head, and not even about yoga. My therapist means the world to me, but today, I really just didn’t want to expose myself to anyone.

I spent several parts of today’s session fighting back tears. I don’t know why I wouldn’t just allow myself to give into them. I just  couldn’t let myself go there. I couldn’t bring myself to go into the vulnerable details of my thoughts and feelings surrounding my sister’s illness. I couldn’t talk about the scary thoughts that have been filling my head these last few days, or how I can’t get my anxiety to go down. I couldn’t verbalize the the fear and anger I have surrounding my abuse. Words don’t do it justice. 

I feel legitimately crazy right now. I feel like my mind and body are trapped in this place of fear and rage and uncertainty. And right now, I don’t see a way out. All I want to do is make the pain end. 

My scars shimmered in the sunlight this week, taunting me, begging me to make more.