Saturday, April 10, 2010

The storytelling

So I am in therapy, or pre-therapy really.
I hope to feel better about myself, more complete and have some control over myself from this exercise. Already I think just thinking about getting better has helped. At the same time, I feel like to some extent the therapy is only making me worse. Usually when I get stressed I resort to old tricks, but in this case its not the stress, its the ease with which my therapist handles these situations. If I were amongst normals I would feel guilty and embarrassed, they would make me feel that way -with looks and silence, disgust or genuine anger and inability to understand. My therapist however only wants to help me deal. Get me to stop feeling bad for the things that are part of me, and get me to feel good about stopping the things I claim to want to stop... but I never really know if I do or not.
I mean, I enjoy sniffing my roommates underwear. I love it! Its so exciting and so delicious. Yet I hate the idea that I would do that to her. Make her uncomfortable or betray her trust. Its got nothing to do with the underwear... and everything to do with my meeting my selfish desires while ignoring hers.

So my therapist asks me to write about one of these events to try to figure out what I am thinking and feeling at the time. I can't figure out when I am not thinking about it, which makes it hard to talk about... but when I just choose a moment to start writing about it I go on and on because my thoughts don't stop. They haven't ever stopped.
At any moment the desire is there.
Yet I understand the behavior is not impulsive... I am doing it after intentionally deciding to do it. When I retreat (as I did a minute ago before writing this) I do so intentionally feeling the situation is wrong.

The hardest thing though, is that I want to tell everyone. I want to tell my roommate, my friends my family my therapist. I sometimes even want to tell my coworkers things.
I get so excited both by the thing itself, and my feelings for people, and my desire to get rid of it all, and the process of letting it go that I want to rush through it.
I want to tell the world.


Probably because I am hoping they will react like my therapist.
But my therapist has been trained to pretend to not care... these people would all be hurt.

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