Today my therapist asked me to bring something I wrote almost a year and a half ago about what I want my life to look like once I’ve completed my trauma work. In that narrative, I talk about how I will be less anxious, have fewer flashbacks and nightmares, and feel at peace with my past. In my session today, we talked about what that means for therapy. 

In a lot of ways, I am close to or have reached my destination. There are just a few things I would like to work on, but for the most part: I am doing better. I never thought I would be able to say that! I never thought it would be possible for me to live without frequent flashbacks and trauma sensations. This past week, I have successfully done just that though. I am not self-injuring….at least not to the extent that I was. There is some occasional wrist banging or scratching, but I’m mostly ok. I still have periods of suicide ideation, but they are for a shorter duration of time and less frequent. Things have definitely improved in the two years since I started seeing my trauma therapist.

So why am I crying?

It isn’t happy tears. I am sad about losing someone who has been such a huge part of literally saving my life. The thought of even decreasing sessions makes me cry. I will miss her. Decreasing sessions inevitably means that the relationship will change. She will not be such an intricate part of my life anymore. And that makes me sad.

The irrational part of my brain tells me I should start cutting again just so I have an excuse to keep seeing my therapist. Over a decade ago, that actually might have been something I would do. However, the rational side of my brain today is so much more powerful than the irrational side. I am happy. Things are falling into place for me, and I don’t feel chained down to this trauma stuff. But I don’t want to let go of the person who helped me get here. I am not sure I’ll ever be ready 😢

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