Since Friday, the day I met my therapist for the first time, I’ve been ruminating over having the conversation with my boyfriend. The conversation that basically goes, “Hey. So I started therapy and DBT. She also would like you to be a part of it. So what do you say you and I go to my therapy appointment together so you can hear first hand all about my crazy since I’ve managed to hide it from you for so long? It’ll be so romantic.”
Ok, so it wouldn’t really go like that. But I was ready to throw up as soon as the words started coming out. Then I blurted out that I started DBT and I lightly explained that it’s basically the only therapy really shown to help borderlines to manage their symptoms. He seemed relieved actually, well partly, because he said he’d been meaning to ask me about getting into therapy and was going to offer to cover any finances but he didn’t know how to ask without sounding offensive. Then he stated that he was concerned because usually the therapist wants the significant other to be involved.
My heart didn’t just sink. No. It attached itself to chains and weights and threw itself overboard. But then came the life jacket. He said his concern about going was that the therapist would advise that I not be with him anymore and that that was his own fear. So I kept telling him if it was too much, he didn’t need to go. She only wanted him to go so he could learn about my behavior and what it means so he can understand it, and also so he could learn how to handle me, but also how to protect himself. It’s important. I also repeated over and over that he didn’t have to and I know he is busy, blah blah blah. Then he said he would do it. He just wants me to be well.
Then came my impulsive uncontrollable rambling which went a little something like this:
I’ve went through this conversation in my head so many times since Friday. I guess it didn’t go as bad I planned. In my head every time I asked you to come, you snuffed up your face and said, “No. I don’t have time for that.” And then I was so hurt and felt that you obviously don’t really love me but I’d be too afraid and sad to leave you even though maybe I should, and so I’d stay with you and I’d just keep thinking about that and I would keep being hurt and it would be terrible but I wouldn’t know what else to do.
I have to say I feel better. I was so afraid of that conversation. I’m so afraid of burdening him. I told him a little more today about how I get. I’ve really hid this from him. All he knows is that I get quiet. I usually text him and say I am not well and will be quiet. Then he gives me space and when I snap out of it, I text him and we move on. I told him when I’m quiet it’s usually a very very bad sign. Then I told him a few things that are often times happening when I’m quiet.
I want him to know who I am…all of me…but I’m so afraid of it at the same time. Ugh.