Tuesday will be my very first session with a therapist. I barely talk to people I know and I'm not sure how I'm gonna tell all my business to a stranger, a white lady at that. Yeah I'm concerned about it. How some white lady gonna tell me how to fix my mental? Yes we're all people facing the same struggles and blah blah. The Black experience is so much more...complex. I wonder if she's received cultural training as well.
I'm really excited too. I've been feeling so....fragmented. Maybe she can help me put the pieces back together. I knew something was wrong when I couldn't make up my mind about anything. That's so unlike me. Once I decide what I want, I figure out a way to get it and that's it. Now I can't even go in a store and figure out what color shirt I want. That's bad news.
I'm still trying to figure out how I stumbled and fell into this abysmal nothingness. I can't recall. It's quite possible my mind was numb from everyday living and sanity slipped right by me.
What I do know is that I have to shed my caretaker role. It comes so naturally to me, taking care of and providing for others, but, um, these folks really ain't improving my quality of life na'an bit. I can no longer afford to give until I'm devoid of self. What I've noticed is once you start giving, the receipients grow complacent and begin to accept it as the norm and any deviation from that is just unacceptable. I don't have time for that anymore. I think this practice is generally known as seeping, steeping or bleeding. Shelfishness is looking pretty good.
I do know, and must accept, that my emotions have been abused. That's a bitter pill to swallow. Acceptance is the first step, right? This newfound vulerablity is just not comfortable for me, the equivalent of wearing granny pannies with tight jeans: It just don't work.
Will the real ~SunRay~ please stand up?
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