That's Fucked Up

"That's fucked up."

There's something I didn't really expect to hear from my therapist. I'll be the first admit that it caught me a bit of guard. Okay, okay - a LOT off guard.

We had just been discussing some things related to my childhood and relationships with my family. I made an offhand comment about feeling like an outsider. Without even thinking about it, I made a comment referring to the rest of my family as "their own little family." I scrambled to "correct" myself - "Well, I mean, of course I was part of the family too I guess, but I felt like I wasn't really part of the family unit. 

"I want you to know that I'm saying this from a place of empathy... That's fucked up."

Then he asked me how I felt about him saying that. After giving my brain a few seconds to process, my thoughts went pretty much like this:

1.  Sweet! My therapist will drop an F bomb! I know it's a little ridiculous that this was literally my first response, but it's really kind of big deal for me. It's a level of comfort thing. It means I can feel more comfortable being myself. It means I don't have to try to censor my thoughts. It was weirdly comforting and encouraging.

2. It made me feel validated. I mean, it's not my therapist's job to validate my feelings, of course, but for someone who constantly questions the validity of her own feelings, it's nice sometimes to know that I wasn't so off base after all. Sometimes it's nice that other people think certain things are as fucked up as I think they are. Yeah, I know I'm insecure. Maybe that'll change at some point, but for now I pretty much live in my insecurity, so some validation every once is helpful for my sanity.

3. It made me kind of sad. Because yeah, it is fucked up. The fact that I feel so disconnected from the rest of my family IS messed up. Or is it ME that's messed up for feeling that way? It's sad either way but is it the situation that's fucked up or is it me? And now I'm anxious that it's totally me that's fucked up.

Therapy is hard and uncomfortable, and it only really works when there is trust. I'm only a few sessions in, but for the first time in a while, I'm optimistic. After so many failed medications and a failed course of TMS therapy, it's kinda nice to have hope.

Therapy always dredges up some ugly, painful, uncomfortable stuff. At least maybe I've found another good therapist that will be able to help me work through it (and not be offended by my potty mouth). I've had such cruddy luck with most of the therapists I've seen, so for now I'm just appreciative for the objective point of view. I am ready to be done with all of the mental health professional dumpster fires...