I am akin to that pouting little girl in that picture.
I had to have a full scale tantrum today, (again), over this art class.
In case anyone isn’t clear, I really don’t want to go. The instructor is great, it isn’t that. It’s just me and what my expectations were going in and how they are extraordinarily different from what it turned out to be.
I have a good therapist. I know I do. I said I didn’t trust her which isn’t entirely fair. I do trust that she thinks she is doing the right thing by me. I don’t know that I believe she knows me the way she thinks she does.
I have been spectacularly proven wrong when I have thought that before though and it’s turned out way better than I could have imagined, so I suppose this could too. That previous experience is literally what is making me go along with this. I’m not sure I trust that my therapist knows what she is doing, but I guess I have to try to trust the process even when I don’t at all.
I am the same person however that when surprised with a new, (and unwanted bed), slept on the floor for eight months rather than sleep in the new bed. Obviously I did that to prove a point. I was probably 20 at that point.
I am not sure what the expectation is after 6 more weeks of me crying in the bathroom of this place is. A sense of accomplishment? I already feel like I’ve failed this whole thing. It already feels lost so I’m just marking time until it’s over at this point. It’s just a prison sentence. Maybe the point is that I can fail at something and survive? I’ve been doing that. Badly.
Just to not let me run from something? Sometimes things suck and it’s justifiable to bail. It’s this one that I think she is most interested in, but choosing this particular thing to put her flag in is kind of cruel given that I was going to do it as a way to improve something that I used as a therapeutic outlet.
All of that said, I would defend my therapist to anyone. I think she’s good at her job. I wish I knew that she really understood what was at play here, but again, I’m going to end up spending every therapy session for the next 6 weeks dealing with this class. Good thing therapy is 3 hours before the class. Otherwise I probably wouldn’t make it. That alone is probably testament to the abilities of my therapist.
I’ll probably pout every Thursday and post some fool post, but in the end maybe something will come of it. I’m dubious and the girl that slept on the floor is not really willing to give much ground, but I’m working really hard at trying to see the other side of this. I really am.