We can all get pretty caught up in our heads. Problems with no obvious solutions become bigger, scarier problems and it begins to get so overwhelming you feel hopeless and defeated and then you finally, with shaking hands and tears in your eyes, talk to someone about it. You give it a voice, let it exist in the universe, and suddenly, even with no outside input, it makes more sense and a solution seems possible. 

 

Have you ever had this happen? I first noticed it in my relationship with my partner, then it really started to work in therapy. I’d bring something up that seemed like this huge, glaring issue that I was completely alone in and feeling like a wretched monster for how I felt and as soon as I said it out loud, sometimes I would *hear* how ludicrous my reasoning had been just swirling in the mess of my Anxiety/Depression/PTSD riddled brain. Turns out an unhealthy brain isn’t the expert on all things awful. Who knew?

 

Even if she didn’t offer advice, I was often able to talk my way through my own problem in a way that I never would have achieved had I just kept sitting in silence with these distorted thought loops. But I was afraid. I was embarrassed. Sometimes I was downright humiliated to voice some things out loud, because it only seemed right that I should feel ashamed. That’s how I would trick myself into staying small and quiet. By believing that that’s what I deserved, maybe, to be kept down. 

 

I wasn’t raised in a family that talked about things. Nothing nice anyway. Like many of us, I was never encouraged to talk about my feelings, and in fact, was criticized, scolded and shamed for ever daring to do so. So it doesn’t come naturally to talk about my darker thoughts. My go-to is to just assume I’m fucked up and shove it down with the rest of the junk I feel ashamed of and try to just endure. 

 

It isn’t easy to voice some thoughts. Even having such success in speaking about demons and freeing them in the process, some things take longer to get to the surface. We spend so much time and energy and perform extreme mental gymnastics to hide and embed things so deeply, it takes time and patience to expose them to the outside world. I imagine them like those deep sea monsters, never having seen the light and wielding some wicked looking sharp teeth — maybe even cool and glowy, if I’m lucky, just swimming around in darkness, not aware any other world exists.   

 

There’s still that little voice that says “this one is different.” You know the voice, when someone is saying something like “we are all worthy of love and kindness,” it’s the one that responds internally with “yeah, but not me” “my problems are different, that can’t apply to me” or “I’m worse than that” etc.

 

That voice is a real bitch. The bitchiest of the bitches, really, and a fucking liar to boot. But knowing something — wanting to believe something — is different than actually believing it. That’s okay. It takes time, and a whole lot of patience. Start small, but start. Talk to someone you trust, tell them upfront you don’t want advice, if you don’t want advice. People who care about you will be happy to listen to you work things out. They aren’t there to judge, and chances are you will feel better and less alone about it all. 

Just fucking talk about it. Please.

 

 

2 Replies to “Just fucking talk about it”

  1. After finding the right therapist I have grown so much in the last year. Gone from tantrums and rages to often pausing and softer responses.
    Gone from spiraling depressions to smaller lows and higher peaks.
    Talking helps.
    Having someone as a sounding board who has no emotional investment is important. I tease my therapist about her being my confessor. (Neither one of us is catholic in denomination)
    Baring your soul
    Looking at it from the outside
    Can heal.

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