Arriving home from therapy, is often difficult, so many times I wished I had some kind of decompression chamber to allow me time and space to adjust.
It is a little different now it seems (equally as hard, but in other ways), now, I am more in touch with who I am now and present and grounded while I talk to my T, it is not so hard to adjust when I return home.
Recently, (the last 3 weeks) those 50 minutes of therapy have been completely jam packed. Today there was talking past trauma, but with a different focus and then some necessary redefining of boundaries and equally necessary reassurance from my T. The time was used constructively, but now I am exhausted.
I am home and oh how good it is to be here, laying in my garden, in the breeze. Watching my children play in front of me and listening to the surrounding trees. I love the freedom that I find here and even though I have just said some very disturbing things; here, in my new garden, I don’t feel so choked by those memories.
However, while it may not be the adjustment it used to be, it is not like I am unaffected right now. It is still very hard this evening. I am so utterly exhausted, I feel as if I have run miles or been awake for a week.
I am hurting and I am resentful of that, of it all, if I am honest. I am frustrated at this process and right now, angry at the world.
I feel as if I have no more to give, as if being honest with myself (my memories and feelings together) has drained me of my energy and all of my reserves. I am so very, very done right now. I feel well and truly spent.