Several weeks ago, I start working with a new trauma therapist. The ones I had previously were wonderful, but unfortunately unable to continue helping me due to my lack of insurance.
My new therapist is very kind and I appreciate that we can have our sessions over the phone, which, makes it easier for me to focus and read to them the things that I write down during the week. I am not sure how many of you have used therapy, but being in a office setting can be a bit uncomfortable, no matter how great the therapist is. It gets sterile, somehow. There is always 2 boxes of tissues. The need to make eye contact. The need (for me) to try to get dressed into something "suitable". Those are not bad things, but I feel more comfortable being on the phone. I can get up and move around if I need to. I can pee when I want to. If it is cold and rainy out, I can wrap my blankets around me and keep on talking.
This therapy is different. I can say things that I didn't think I could say before. I can be pissed and not feel guilty. It's also nice to talk to someone like a friend, someone that gets it. Someone who just lets me vent things that I didn't know I needed to vent. Yes, I know that is what therapists are paid for, but this is much different, for me, at least.
They have told me some interesting things that I need to focus on this week, when I can, which I am working on at my own pace. I will get to those when I feel comfortable sharing them.
For now, I want to tell my story from today.
I had to get a few little things for my house. Very little things such as toilet paper, hand sani, and some stamps. These are little things you might not think you need until, well, there aren't any in your house. Making one trip out of the house a week is a huge deal for me, and I do take pride in it at least.
It was warm outside. Warm enough for me, but I still have to wear layers of clothes to keep warm. I don't wear any make-up anymore since there is no real point, but I put on a little lotion on my face and some mascara, which I haven't really tried in a year.
It was warm enough that I didn't need a hat. I put on a little organic rosemary oil to scoot my hair down, what little I have.
I have never thought of myself as a pretty girl. I am a average girl. I'm not asking for compliments, I am just saying how I always been feeling. I have always been short. I've always been (slightly) funny/sarcastic. I think I have always been good at taking care of people. These are things I am proud of.
As I went on my very few errands, I was very disappointed in humans.
They stared at me like I was a freak-show. They whispered behind me. Despite giving my best little smile (and I even wore lipgloss), they stared. This use to happen a lot during the Summers past...wearing tank tops, people not liking all my tattoos. This is not the past anymore. I am not ashamed of how I look...It is from a assault. I have to keep my head shaved for now. I have atrophy. These are things that I know other people don't understand, but staring at a person uncomfortably, making judgments and not being helpful at all (such as opening a door) is just...rude.
This hasn't broke my spirit. There is a long way to go. A very long way to recovery.
I learn every day what people what people are capable of, and not capable of.
Please keep this in mind when you see someone, struggling. Struggling to smile. Struggling to open a door. Struggling to be kind, even if they don't feel like it.
My love to all of you. Stay safe. Stay aware.
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