Back in the Saddle Again

I'm back in therapy. It will be vastly different this time. 

Years ago when I started the first time, I began my first blog. And people came to visit me. A huge, supportive group of people. That doesn't happen anymore. No one blogs.

 Years ago when I started the first time, I gained beautifully close friends who walked with me, followed my progress, encouraged me. That won't happen this time. They've moved on. They have spouses and families and wonderful lives. 

Years ago, Tolkien boy would tell me the paragraphs above sound wistful. He doesn't say things like that anymore. We mostly talk about work. Sometimes we talk about the weather or our families. Mostly, we talk about anything that's not intimate or intrusive. I think it's good that we still talk.

Am I wistful?

I don't know. 

With all that has happened in the past five years, I've become reclusive - not in a physical way, but mentally and emotionally. When my stress level becomes unmanageable, when PTSD symptoms work their way into my daily existence, I am unable to gauge how people feel about me. I don't understand the intricacies of mutual friendship. And so I withdraw. I don't want to place myself where I might not be wanted or appreciated. And I'm too tired to battle for a place in anyone's life.

I talked to my therapist about this. I told her that I understood that it's unfair of me to believe people don't want me. And I think it's sad that I don't know how to be okay with being loved. And I want to learn to trust people. I want to trust Darin, and Tolkien boy, and Mr. Tolkien boy, and my kids. 

I just don't.

So this time will be challenging. I came close last time. It was difficult to deny that I was loved when people were telling me frequently. It was difficult to believe I was unwanted when people visited me and made time for me to visit them. It was difficult to buy into the belief that I have nothing of interest to say when there was always someone waiting to talk with me online. 

This time I get to do everything alone. And the irony is, I'm good at alone. Very good at it. But learning to let people into my alone-ness - that's the challenge. And believing they wish to be there - impossibly challenging. 

I hope I can do it. I want to. And I think I will. But when I finally get it, I hope there are still people around who want me.