as I walk

the journey to becoming me

socks

There have been many dark nights that have ravaged my security, self-worth, and at times, sanity.   I try to ignore them.  I try to push those nights aside and pretend that I was just having a bad day.  I don’t let people see the fear and pain that I still have from something 20 years ago.

I told a few people.  I dealt with it.  I’m good.
That’s been my stance.
Even when I was in therapy last year.  I stated it matter of fact and then moved on.  I always assumed that if I could talk about it without freaking out… that I was fine.  That I was over it.  That I’m good.  In the right setting, I can do it perfectly.  I’ve even found myself consoling the person I told.

The past couple months have been great.  I met someone.  She gets me in a way that no one else has before.  She’s able to track the ebb and flow of my thought waves.  I’m not only comfortable being completely me around her, I feel more me with her than I did before I knew her.
It was only a couple of weeks in.  We were talking about baggage.  We had already gone into some fairly intense stuff, so in my typical style, I went all in.  Well, I guess it was more of a Cliff’s Notes version.  Okay, fine, TV Guide synopsis.

What I didn’t get until Monday night was that I had merely just compartmentalized my junk.  It was all still there.  Just labeled and organized.  I assumed that like my socks (a drawer each for short socks, longer socks, dressy/fun socks), that it would just stay put where I wanted it.  That if I opened up my fun socks drawer, that’s all I’d see.  I wouldn’t see my ankle length running socks.  So Monday night… my drawers got crossed.  Two decades of compartmentalizing crashed down.  I freaked.  I freaked in front of her.  I hadn’t felt so scared and vulnerable in well… close to twenty years.  I did my best to suppress it.  I tried to downplay what happened.  I was glad it was dark so she couldn’t see me crying.

Tuesday morning, I dug through all the resources at work and scheduled a first session with a new therapist.  It’s going to be painful and difficult.  But it will be worth it to be able to open up my fun socks drawer without fear of what may come.

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2 thoughts on “socks

  1. Pingback: I don’t want to do this… « mar's journey

  2. I’m so proud of you for uncompartmentalizing. That is a very hard step. Courage and peace be on you as you walk through the mess and come out wearing very different socks. xo

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