One of the hardest things for me to do at times is to stay present. And yet, it's one of those things that I should be doing in order to effective manage my anxiety. Even more difficult is for me to be present when I'm feeling emotions that are difficult for me to sit with. I would prefer to put off feeling those things, or find ways to distract myself from these feelings. Anxiety is a familiar feeling for me lately - a little too familiar. I started back to counseling because I've recently determined that I'm not managing my anxiety as well as I would like.
Yesterday, I went through the process of giving my full background to my new counselor - it was harder than I thought it was going to be. I haven't been to counseling in at least a decade, but the process is familiar for me. I figured this would be more like a tune up, but it's possible I've been needing some major work.
When talking about my past, I'm usually so capable of going into robot-mode and just talking about my past in a super detached way. They may be my stories, but after so long, they've just become stories to me with little emotional weight... or so I thought. This time, in an effort to get out literally as much as I could muster in one sitting so that my new counselor had every piece of history I could find to make sure she knew why I am the way I am... talking through my stories felt different. My voice was shaky. My hands were shaky. She checked in with me a couple of times to make sure I was comfortable continuing to talk about everything.
At the end of the session, I brought up my cousin Paul, who died by suicide when I was 14 years old. This morning, I realized for the first time this week that that this is World Suicide Prevent Week. It seems almost fitting that my deep dive counseling session would coincide with this week since this time of year always makes me think about Paul. This is the week that reminds me that I'm still living without him. I'm terrible at letting people go, but even over 26 years later, I'm still haunted by the idea that he should still be here. I worry that I will always be haunted by those that I've lost, but this loss in particular stands out. The night he left still stands out in my mind as the most traumatic night of my life.
So today, the feeling that I'm sitting with is that I'm feeling depressed. This is a difficult emotion for me to sit with in particular. Outside of major life events, it doesn't come up that often. I think I'm having a little bit of an emotional fall out, an emotional hangover of sorts, after going through the process of talking about things I haven't thought about in a while. Coupled with thinking about Paul, I'm struggling. And it feels like I don't have time to struggle. I need to work, I need to be productive. I need to take care of my family. But right now, it's really fucking hard.
Putting off this feeling isn't working... and I realized a few moments a go, that I probably shouldn't put this off. I need to sit with this feeling. I need to feel the weight on my chest. That doesn't mean I should let myself drop into the pit of despair. Sitting with these feelings doesn't mean I need to be consumed by them. But writing about them? Taking some deep breaths and recognizing them? It's probably better than trying to distract myself, or pretend that I'm alright. For right now, I'm giving myself permission to feel this way and to let myself feel it, in order to move through it.
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