That morning i went to see my therapist and felt ready to end the whole thing, not because all issues have been resolved but because i felt i could start handling these conflicts in a less self-destructive way.
I spent a great weekend, could not have been better, with lindsay and her family at long beach. Her mom reminded me so much of my mom, the seriousness thus was translated into a kind of warmth. I was so happy to feel accepted by a family, especially her family. There was a kind of bitter sweet sadness coming out when i was there, because i wish i was closer to my family like lindsay to hers. I wish they could take me and the people i care as the people they care. Maybe love means to hold all the conflicts together while still seeing the sign of the subtle tenderness and desire to be close. I wish they could understand it.
I am still anxious and afraid of losing, losing people, losing confidence, losing hope, losing the sense of purpose and the place i stand in this fucking bizarre world. My therapist said things always go wrong when we fall into the binary trap, seeing there's either success or failure. What i need to work on is to find a solid, center place in myself that can hold these conflicts together and know that i do not have to choose to be either way; to love my family or to be queer, to get into school or become or a complete failure; to be burnt out from organizing or become a hypocrite; to be have a flawless relationship or die alone; to be caught in the past or neglect what happened and move on with a lie.
Maybe things will be okay. Truth is, no one has left me yet. I always need to come back here and do a reality check knowing that most of my stress comes from these anxious anticipations of some sort of unrepairable destruction. When things are going so well there must be something bad thats gonna happen soon--growing up as a chinese kid we learned how to be modest about life, taking as little space as possible. Now i'm learning to be bold but also be ready for any consequences possible and knowing that whatever happens i will not fall. Or that maybe it's okay to fall a couple times. I wanna experience what it feels like to be on the ground and appreciate the taste of soil and sand in my scratched palms.
I feel strong, vulnerable, yet hopeful about whats coming next.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Therapy, first day.
I was sitting in the waiting room completely fascinated by the noise machine and the warm deadliness in the whole floor. It was 10am and there was only one white girl sitting next to me, browsing the New Yorker like she didn't care. I didn't even see what she looked like, only the paleness and frailness. And i was anxious. Anxious about what i should say and what i should not. But my therapist was this tall warm woman, came up to me asking if i was wen (the entire time i was thinking if i was her first Asian client). She asked me if i wanted some hot tea and automatically liked her just that much more.
The office was awesome. Bright and green and warm and the window covered the entire wall. No tribal decorations or pictures of starving black kids. I was relieved.
She said you must be anxious because i'm a complete stranger to you now. I felt all prepared by some HBO therapy tv show and 4 year of college psychology course and a psychologist mom and a social worker girlfriend! In this way it's actually good that she is a complete stranger. I felt really scattered about my personal history and sometimes i couldn't remember or articulate what happened especially during my high school time in seattle. I remember it was probably the most depressed period of my life so everything seemed so stale and static. Part of me really resisted revisiting it. I thought i had already done all the healing and analyzing and introspecting and so sealed it in a box and buried it under my bed. My memory of 17 was a blank and lots of dates and calorie counts. She asked me how long has it been since Anne was gone i didn't have that number in my mind only 2004. I said August 2004.
I think whats good about therapy is that you could hand something you've been occupied with temporarily to the therapist so you don't obsess it over the day and night, knowing that someone will go through the trauma or stress or obstacle with you. Even though after all the shit is still mine and i am the one who has to take all the consequences, it's good feeling that someone is bridging the gaps from irrational destructive thoughts to the possibility of healing.
The office was awesome. Bright and green and warm and the window covered the entire wall. No tribal decorations or pictures of starving black kids. I was relieved.
She said you must be anxious because i'm a complete stranger to you now. I felt all prepared by some HBO therapy tv show and 4 year of college psychology course and a psychologist mom and a social worker girlfriend! In this way it's actually good that she is a complete stranger. I felt really scattered about my personal history and sometimes i couldn't remember or articulate what happened especially during my high school time in seattle. I remember it was probably the most depressed period of my life so everything seemed so stale and static. Part of me really resisted revisiting it. I thought i had already done all the healing and analyzing and introspecting and so sealed it in a box and buried it under my bed. My memory of 17 was a blank and lots of dates and calorie counts. She asked me how long has it been since Anne was gone i didn't have that number in my mind only 2004. I said August 2004.
I think whats good about therapy is that you could hand something you've been occupied with temporarily to the therapist so you don't obsess it over the day and night, knowing that someone will go through the trauma or stress or obstacle with you. Even though after all the shit is still mine and i am the one who has to take all the consequences, it's good feeling that someone is bridging the gaps from irrational destructive thoughts to the possibility of healing.
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