“Stuff I Tell My Therapist”

Email two: 24 January 2022, 23:30

Jane

I don’t know what a loving relationship is supposed to feel like. Maybe my expectations for how our relationship is supposed to be are unrealistic.

But aren’t we supposed to be free to talk to each other about anything? I feel like I can’t be honest with my partner at all. I am afraid  he will judge me as he always does.

I want to be myself around Nohim but whenever I do, I get judged or my motives get questioned. I can’t live like this. 

Is it possible that choosing to be with this person was a mistake? 

Maybe we are not compatible. 

It makes me extremely anxious to see him angry or disappointed in me.

To be honest I didn’t get into a relationship with him because I fell in love- I’m still not sure what that feels like- I got with him because I felt like I wasn’t worthy of someone else (someone better). I said to myself; “well, at least someone wants me” 

It was a stupid decision, I know. And I regret it especially when I see couples who seem to be “truly in love”.

I feel like I ruined his chance of being happy with someone who would be compatible with him and would make him happy. 

I don’t know what I’m going to do. I am afraid of being unwanted by others if I decide to leave him.  

Please don’t judge me, I already have to deal with that at home.

Depressed Patient no. 55

New series: “Stuff I Tell My Therapist”

A series of e-mails I have sent to my therapist over the past year. Some names have been censored or changed.

Disclaimer: Everything is true, except for the parts that are completely made up! Proceed with caution! 😅

Email one: 21 Jan 2022, 06:50 am

Hi Dr. Jane Doe

Hope you are well.

I apologise for not opening up as much on our session, it was the first time I have ever gotten a chance to speak about my feelings with anyone. I promise to so better next time.

These are the lyrics of a song called “surface pressure” from a new Disney movie. I relate so much to the song. I hope it helps you get a better understanding of how I feel. I promise to open up more next time.

I’m the strong one, I’m not nervous

I’m as tough as the crust of the earth is
I move mountains, I move churches
And I glow ’cause I know what my worth is

I don’t ask how hard the work is
Got a rough indestructible surface
Diamonds and platinum, I find ’em, I flatten ’em
I take what I’m handed, I break what’s demanding
But

Under the surface
I feel berserk as a tightrope walker in a three-ring circus
Under the surface
Was Hercules ever like “Yo, I don’t wanna fight Cerberus”?
Under the surface
I’m pretty sure I’m worthless if I can’t be of service

A flaw or a crack
The straw in the stack
That breaks the camel’s back
What breaks the camel’s back it’s

Pressure like a drip, drip, drip that’ll never stop, whoa
Pressure that’ll tip, tip, tip ’till you just go pop, whoa
Give it to your sister, your sister’s older
Give her all the heavy things we can’t shoulder
Who am I if I can’t run with the ball?
If I fall to

Pressure like a grip, grip, grip and it won’t let go, whoa
Pressure like a tick, tick, tick ’til it’s ready to blow, whoa
Give it to your sister, your sister’s stronger
See if she can hang on a little longer
Who am I if I can’t carry it all?
If I falter

Under the surface
I hide my nerves, and it worsens, I worry something is gonna hurt us
Under the surface
The ship doesn’t swerve as it heard how big the iceberg is
Under the surface
I think about my purpose, can I somehow preserve this?

Line up the dominoes
A light wind blows
You try to stop it tumbling
But on and on it goes

But wait
If I could shake the crushing weight of expectations
Would that free some room up for joy
Or relaxation, or simple pleasure?
Instead we measure this growing pressure
Keeps growing, keep going
‘Cause all we know is

Pressure like a drip, drip, drip that’ll never stop, whoa
Pressure that’ll tip, tip, tip ’til you just go pop, whoa-oh-oh
Give it to your sister, it doesn’t hurt
And see if she can handle every family burden
Watch as she buckles and bends but never breaks
No mistakes just

Pressure like a grip, grip, grip and it won’t let go, whoa
Pressure like a tick, tick, tick ’til it’s ready to blow, whoa
Give it to your sister and never wonder
If the same pressure would’ve pulled you under
Who am I if I don’t have what it takes?
No cracks, no breaks
No mistakes, no pressure

Yours kindly

Depressed Patient no. 55

“The Last Man Standing”

He is standing there . . . still like a well-crafted statue.

Loyal to his assignment, never moving.

A faithful witness, dependable and true.

A reliable timekeeper, he is never late.

The rains never faze him. The winds never shake him.

His face as pale as white ash glimmers through the darkness of the night.

His stark features make him stand out from others of his kind.

Clad in classic all-black attire that carefully wraps around him like a meticulously woven cloak.

His countenance slightly changes with each passing night but his exuding beauty still humbles me every time.

I marvel at his presence, I stare just for a little while longer before I walk away.

He basks in the attention of his audience.
Young and old, they are all captivated by his spectacular image.

Cool, calm, and quiet.

Composed even in the face of the dangers of the night.

He rests his eyes on me, and I feel safe under his protective gaze.

His bright silvery eyes reassure me.

He stretches out his hand to help me find my way home.

“The Most Hated boy in the World”

I thought I should share a draft of the first chapter of a novel I’m currently working on, about a young boy who faces abuse from the people he trusts the most- his family. It is based on true events. The title is as above mentioned.

Please feel free to leave comments and suggestions.

Chapter one – “To the bone”

As he searches for warmth in the depths of his pockets with his diminutive hands, a bitterly cold breeze violently slaps him across the face. The weather has been particularly unforgiving this week, and today is no exception. It’s a damp foggy Thursday morning and The silhouettes of the people walking in front and beside him slowly diminish and disappear into the mist. Young and old bodies strut by trying to catch up to the morning rush

Another one of the wind’s companions gives it a go, blow by blow the winds attack as to taunt him, knowing he doesn’t stand a chance against them. One more surge of cold air pierces straight into his eyes, forcing them shut.
A tear begins to fall down his frozen cheek, followed by another and another, tears start to flow like a flooded river during raining season.
He gives out a heavy sigh that seems to fall out of his mouth and warms up the cold air surrounding his face.

He wipes the tears on his face as quickly as he can and throws his hands back into his thin grey trouser pockets. He clenches his fists to trap the little warmth in his hands preventing it from escaping. It doesn’t help that his school uniform is made from horribly rangy fabric. The hefty sack on his back is not making the journey to school any easier either.

Anyway, it will all be worth it once he gets there. He enjoys school and loves to learn. The classroom is his sanctuary. It helps him forget about all his troubles…

…