Looking back a couple weeks ago, at my previous post, I thought that I had most of my fears about Dave attempting again, beat. Now I realize that my fears were merely compartmentalized, tucked away, ready to spring into action when some trigger, some reminder set them off.
The day after I wrote the previous post–I was in my therapy session tearfully explaining Continue reading
Right after Dave’s second attempt, I felt like I was falling apart. I would come home and see Dave’s car in the carport and think, “Oh please, don’t let me walk in there and find him hanging!” If he was getting a little irritated with me, I feared he was tipping toward an attempt. I was afraid to voice my irritations with him. Fear and anxiety were taking over my life.
So two months after his second attempt I requested individual therapy.
Individual therapy helped because I didn’t have to censor what I said. My therapist helped me process my feelings about my husband, Dave, in it’s very rawest stage, in the safety of four walls. During the session I could craft the language in a style that Dave, my husband, could hear and take in and prevent him from walling me off or spiraling towards suicide.
I got to hear over and over again that it was not my fault.
I got to process the trauma. Grieve. Heal.
Though Dave’s last attempt was over a year ago, I’m still processing it. It still affects me. The fears and anxieties still erupt and Individual therapy has been critical in helping me get through that year.
I am doing individual therapy to take care of me. To help me. To support me. It’s what I need and I’m doing it to take care of me.
I’m wondering if starting this blog is a healthy coping strategy, a dysfunctional one, or maybe a little of both?
1. On one hand I see it as Continue reading