Therapy: The beginning of the end?

The six weeks I alloted myself for therapy expired years ago. In fewer than five months I will have finished five years of therapy. I have decided this makes me an expert therapy client. I have no idea what that means, but I believe that much therapy deserves some sort of title. Perhaps I should post a contest to name my new designation. The winner can come with me to my next therapy session, meet Therapist, and go to dinner at Zupas with me. I'll buy.

I did not know:
1. I was so messed up.
2. Therapy hurts worse than I ever dreamed.
3. I'm great at finding answers, but I suck at knowing how to use that information in my life.

I know now.

My last visit was actually very productive. Therapist understood why I wanted to face withdrawal and drug dependency without his help. I was honest. I told him I still want to take the pain pills. I also told him I won't, which is also true. We talked about it for a few minutes, and Therapist pointed out that my decision to tune into pain was timely. Had I been in the place where I was able to push pain into the background, numb it, and ignore it, it's possible my back injury might have become serious. I would have continued running and doing other things would would have exacerbated the pinched nerve. I had said at my previous session that one reason I wished to feel pain was because I knew it signaled when the body was in distress or danger and needed attention. He reminded me of this. He also told me he believes I won't take steps to procure more pills, but insisted that if the need for those became overwhelming, I would promise to call him and alert a couple of other people so I could get the help I would need. I promised, but I won't need to call him.

Therapist believes I'm ready to finish what I began. I did all the external work and some of the internal stuff, as well. We discussed remaining deep-seated feelings and beliefs I still carry. Many of those are rooted in the parts of me I dissociated, which have now become Me. As they are part of me daily, I must now address those issues. They include the following:
1. Fear of gaining weight (even the smallest weight fluctuation sends me into a panic attack and I sometimes cannot eat for a day or two--which takes care of the problem but is unhealthy).
2. Belief that my presence is not good for people. This includes physical proximity, as well as verbal exchanges or simply personal association with me.
3. Inability to stop equating life changes with abandonment.
4. Inability to incorporate logical thought patterns into stressful situations which involve loved ones.

I'm amazed that as I type that tiny list, I suddenly feel exhausted.

I asked Therapist what friends do when they're both emotionally depleted and in need of support. He said that's why people usually have a fairly large pool of friends and family members, and why codependent relationships can become dangerous. The codependents end up draining each other of energy and joy, and do not have the reserves necessary to recover.

Therapist believes I will be able to overcome each item on my list, and more. I feel too tired. And the things he's asked me to do serve to increase my vulnerability to others. Should I ask the wrong person for help and receive an answer which further fatigues me, I'm not sure I'll wish to continue trying. I'm not even sure what I'm saying here. But I pointed out to Therapist that I'm drawing close to my fifth year of therapy. The friends who have been supporting me have been there for at least four years. That is a very long time to be a support person for someone who is needy. I think they're tired, too.

Therapist wanted to know if I'd asked my friends if they were tired. I haven't. I'll admit, I'm not excited to hear, "Yes. I'm a little tired. I care about you, but you're sort of high maintenance, and it doesn't seem to end. Ever." No one wants to know they've been sucking the life out of people, regardless of how pop culture currently reveres the vampire effect.

This was only one of a list of things Therapist assigned me to ask. And he assigned specific people to each question. I said this could take awhile. He shrugged.

I left my appointment a little bit concerned, but mostly feeling good. Three days later, I'm feeling too tired to even think about it. Maybe I'm finally getting old?

I suppose it could be the grey day we're having, or my horribly busy schedule, or the fact that my husband and kids are fighting the fall illnesses and seem to need more care than usual. Also, Darrin's been gone a lot lately.

I don't want to admit that I need support, either. Do I know I need it? Of course. But I still would rather not admit I need it.

Today I feel defeated. I don't know why. I think, maybe, it might have something to do with the fact that my rapist cousin sent me a friend request on Facebook over the weekend. I don't know why this upsets me. I'm not invisible or anonymous. I'm friends with many family members. If I'm on Facebook, he can find me and ask me to be his friend. It's just....I didn't think, even if he found me, he would send the request. He knows what he did to me.

I've been advised to get off Facebook, to remove myself from the Internet completely. I don't want to. He can't hurt me and I'm finished being afraid of him. I'm not going to allow his actions to dictate mine.

Still, I'm puzzled that this upsets me so much. I think part of me wants him to be sensitive to the fact that he nearly ruined my life. Silly. Why would I think someone who would spend three months raping an eleven-year-old would feel any sensitivity to me? I don't know what I was thinking...what I'm still thinking...