Returning to Therapy

Happy Valentine's Day
Happy Valentine’s Day

It’s been strange, returning to therapy. I thought I was done with all the navel gazing and unpacking, and re-framing. None of that shit is much fun, plus I’m taking a chance that I could be hurt again.

My new therapist isn’t a CSAT (Certified Sex Addiction Therapist) but he is licensed (I checked). He hasn’t been reported for professional misconduct (I checked). My husband thinks he’s good (I wouldn’t see him otherwise). He is a published author (that’s kind of neat). He’s smart.

So I was telling him about some of the difficult (i.e. bad) things that happened to me when I was in treatment. These are things that I did not think were all that big a deal, minor hurts. I told them so my new therapist would have a picture of how sick I was at that time.

He listened and when I stopped, he reflected back to me that it sounded like the doctor that did my intake interview might have had some issues himself. (I agree.) He said it must have hurt to be treated that way. (It did.) It must have been devastating to have my behavior toward my children questioned.

And at that point, my eyes filled up with tears and I had to disassociate to keep from breaking down completely. That was pretty near the end of the session so we stopped there. I got myself together enough that he wasn’t worried about me leaving and I made it down his crummy stairs without breaking my neck. I got to my car without attracting undue attention and cried the whole way home. Hard.

I hate crying. Somehow or another I got the idea that crying was manipulative and I do not ever want to be manipulative. I don’t want to trick people into caring for me. So I cried in the car, then at home; after dinner and in the shower. And the next day . . . wait for it . . . I had no desire or urge to act out sexually in any way. None. This after weeks of having every cell in my body screaming for sex.

It was a day of sobriety – a really good day.

This was a week or so ago and I’ve acted out since then. In fact, I had an embarrassing moment this morning when my husband noticed some of the more tangible signs of my acting out.

What I’m wondering is if I’m going to have to cry more in therapy to regain the solid sobriety I used to have. Sobriety and recovery require such deep and intensive exposure – and I haven’t even begun to deal with the issues that are fueling my addiction. I absolutely dread going forward with this. I do not think I will be able to really let go and cry at these sessions like I probably need to. I was only able to do that with my last therapist because I was so sick I didn’t have a choice. I had no reserves.

I’m better now and I have plenty of reserves. Will I be able to let go? Will this therapist be able to help me pry my fingers up and just let go? Will he be able to see me through the fall?

Well at the very least, the melodrama of the last few sentences has made me smile. I hope it has made you smile as well.




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