Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Hiking, dreams, and therapy
Hiking for three hours with the dogs and a friend and then going out to dinner has left me exhausted, but in a good way. Today has been a really good anxiety day. My anxiety level has been nearly zero today which is unheard of for me. I panicked a little bit this morning, but that's it. Is it strange that I feel a little anxious over the fact that I didn't feel anxious today?
I've been pretty content today despite the level of deep conversation with my friend today. I find deep personal conversation engaging, but rather draining. For some reason I've been drawn to share myself and learn from certain people more lately. Maybe I'm not as reserved as I used to be. Maybe something has switched and I'm a little less ashamed of where I've been. I'm not sure that's 100 percent true. Just yesterday I removed a blog entry after twenty minutes because it lead to quite a bit of panic. It was way too honest and way too much, even for THIS blog. In other words -- I was way too chicken to leave it up.
I am laying here in bed, pleading with my brain to turn off so I can get some sleep before work tomorrow morning. I have to be at a school about 45 minutes away at 7 am tomorrow. At least there won't be much traffic that early in the morning. My gf is in the other room working on her proposal for her dissertation. God, I hate that thing. It gets far more attention than I do. I wish she was beside me. I want to lay my head in the crook of her neck and listen to her heart beat until I fall asleep. Being with a Ph.D student can be pretty freaking lonely.
I got three hours of sleep last night and was physically active nearly all day long. How am I still wide awake? Maybe the problem is I'm a little bit afraid to sleep. That's a lie--I'm terrified of sleep. I'm terrified of my dreams. Why are they so graphic? Why can't I dream in metaphors and symbols like a normal person? Well sometimes I do, like the other day I dreamed that I adopted a little girl and named her Sayonara. I told my therapist and she laughed. She laughed, and then she wanted to analyze this stupid dream. It's not rocket science why I would name my daughter "Goodbye." No one ever stays in my life for very long. Everyone I love always goes away. Everyone leaves me eventually. I might as well name everyone "Goodbye."
I tell my therapist I never remember my bad dreams. Really, I just don't want to talk about them. I don't know how to talk about them. I'm too ashamed and too afraid of them. I don't want to give them that much attention or power. She doesn't really want to hear about them anyway. I think she is really just trying to fill the silence. We sit in silence a lot. I must be the most boring client in LA. I really wonder what she thinks of me, but I'm afraid of the answer. Well-- no, I'm not afraid of the answer, because I know the answer I get if I ask will be her "therapist" answer. I don't want that answer. I want to know what she thinks of me beyond her therapeutic opinion. I know the answer won't be positive, but I think I still want her to tell me. What would she think of me if she knew everything? I'm not even sure I can tell her about the self harm. What would she do with that information? How do I ask her that without sounding so neurotic? Maybe it's not such a good thing that I want my therapist to judge me and tell me bad things about myself. Why do I have this secret desire for my therapist to degrade me? Shouldn't my secret desire be the opposite of that? Shouldn't I secretly wish my therapist loved me? Okay just writing that down makes me realize how nuts that is. I think I just want an honest reaction from her. Therapy is strange and there is something very forced and fake about it. How can my therapist treat me if she doesn't care about me? I pay her to pretend that she cares for an hour twice a week. Therapy is so frustrating, uncomfortable, and fake. I don't even know why I go. What good is it really doing me?