Hmmm. . .

Yesterday’s therapy session was. . .interesting?

T said “Wow” three separate times in response to willingness/ability on my part to answer questions without going straight to White Brain mode.  I didn’t notice the difference, but apparently, T did.  It was interesting.  T says that things have changed somewhat significantly recently.  I sort of understand what she means–I can feel that I am more comfortable and calm and trusting–but it’s weird to have her seeing something that I am not completely solid on myself.

At one point, we were starting to stray into some rough territory, and I could feel myself about to freak out, so I said, “We need to stop talking about this now.”  (“We” meaning me and T, not me and some other parts of myself.  I never think of myself as “we.”)  T said, “Wow.”  I asked her via email this morning why she said “wow” to that, and she said it was because I actually acknowledged that I was uncomfortable instead of just switching to “I have no clue what we’re even talking about!” like I guess I usually do.  I didn’t freak out, but my legs froze up for a few minutes and I couldn’t come up with any words, but I wasn’t really freaking.  Just a minor panic.  At that point, T sat forward in her chair, which she does sometimes, and oh boy, that did NOT go over well, so I managed to say, “I need you to not sit forward like that,” which I guess was also a step forward for me.  And then after a few minutes, I could move my legs, and I felt okay.

It’s kind of odd to try to write about this kind of thing.  It’s a basic freeze response, but it’s hard to describe.  And I can’t remember even what exactly we were talking about–I have a general idea, but not anything specific.  I know we were talking about the book I wrote about in my last post, and about why parts of it ended up being triggering (the parts about sexual abuse in the family), but I don’t know what specifically set me off.  I know some people record their therapy sessions, and I’m sure my therapist would be open to this, but the thought terrifies me.  I guess I kind of value the protection that the “fog” of not remembering what freaked me out provides.