THIS WEEK IN THERAPY: THE 7 LEVELS OF HELL - THE TRUTH ABOUT THE THERAPEUTIC PROCESS (PART I)

So, this post is one that is extremely personal to me (‘cause, up to this point, the posts haven’t been??).  I’ve known what I want to say for a while now, but have not been able to bring myself to sit down and write it out.  There are likely many reasons for this, but they all end up in the same place – fear (or terror, which is the new word that I’m supposed to be dealing with). 

Terror that speaking up and out will be met with criticism and alienation.  I have spent so much of my life building myself into the person that I want other people to perceive me as that I have often hidden what I actually am: a broken and flawed individual. 

You might be saying, “but everyone is broken and flawed”, and you are correct.  But how often do people come right out and say it.  How often do we let our cracks show?  How often do we stand up and say “LOOK AT ME!  I’M DAMAGED AND I WANT THE WORLD TO KNOW IT!”?  How often do we say, “I’m bleeding from scars you can’t see but they hurt me in ways that I can never fully express”?  From my experience, we don’t. 

MONTH #6 - HALF WAY THERE!!!

Wow!!!!  It’s incredible!  I am officially half way through this year!!!
-Insert happy dance here-

My therapist asked me the other day “why is the half way mark so important to you?”  I had never really considered that before and could not come up with an answer immediately.  Like with most things to which I don’t have an answer, the question nagged at me until I could come up with one.  When I was living overseas, I remember celebrating the half way mark as well.  It is significant.  Recently, I discovered the answer…

The halfway point of anything marks the moment in time where the amount of time remaining is equal to the amount of time passed (thanks for the obvious explanation!).  This means that you have already experienced the amount of time that you still have left.  You have done it before.  This, in my mind, is reassuring.  When I began this year, it seemed incredibly daunting and I have celebrated the little milestones.  5 months was exciting because it meant that I broke my record for the amount of time spent without having sex (and every day after was yet another achievement), but I didn’t have any perspective on how long a year really was.  Now I do.  I have gone 6 months (now longer) without having sex, I only have to do that same amount again.  There is perspective.  There is point-of-reference.  There is the confidence that it is possible because it has been possible before.  There is strength in that knowledge.  The world didn’t come to an end.  I wasn’t ostracized by the entire male population.  I wasn’t any less desirable or attractive.  Life went on as it always does.  And now, every day that I continue in this endeavour, it becomes easier and easier because the time is lessening and the amount of experience is growing.  I have reached the summit of the mountain and now can enjoy the leisurely journey back down (even if the desire to have sex is still increasing).

So much has been going on in my mind recently that I barely know where to start.