The T Word

Trust isn't a four letter word but for me it may as well be. It is that forbidden and terrifying to me. I don't trust myself, forget trusting anyone else. My last therapist pretty much shredded the little bits of me that were able to kinda sorta maybe barely pretend to trust.

And then I got my current therapist. I haven't even been seeing her for two years. It will be two years the beginning of May. During my first session with her I was so damaged I told her there was no point in seeing her because she would get sick of me too because everyone does, so what was the point in going through that again? She promised she wouldn't get sick of me or leave me. I didn't believe her. Parts of me still don't really believe it, but there has been some headway there.

Today during the session we were just talking in circles. I was physically and mentally exhausted and almost canceled the session because I was afraid I wouldn't be able to drive safely. I decided to go because of some weird things that happened last night. So we're talking about things that have changed and I said a lot of it is because of her. She said she's made suggestions to me (the writing group, telling my minister) but it doesn't mean I have to take them. And I said well, I take them because I know she is safe and so it should be OK and not hurt me.

As I was talking to her about this while hiding my face behind my lion she said that wasn't good enough. That she knew what word I was substituting for with the word "safe" and she wanted to hear me say it. I slid even further down against the wall so I was almost lying completely on the floor (we both sit on the floor during the sessions, to keep me grounded) and my face was completely covered by my lion. And even with my face behind the lion I could feel it getting so red.

It took more then a few tries. I don't even know how many times it took me to get beyond the sound of "t" to "tr". Let's just say it took many tries, after which came "tru". Eventually I mumbled, choked, stuttered and finally uttered the word.

Trust.

And then I cried.

None of this is news to her. She knows that she knows more about me then anyone has ever, ever, ever known about me. This has been an ongoing topic of late, that she knows so much about me. It's not news to me either.

But to admit it? To even think the word to myself?

I wasn't going there. I didn't want to jinx what I have, which is something I've never had. I didn't want to acknowledge it in my own head.

To say it out loud? To another person?

Terrifying.

This is a road I've never been down before.