Face it

Tears showed up today. I don’t cry in front of people easily. I don’t cry in front of therapists often.

We talked about stuff. The fact that I do not like my son, which she said is okay. I don’t have to like him. We talked about shifting my parenting so that I am the mother and Joshua is the child. I have lived in my history. My insides have been tight and squinched up in a ball. I’ve lived in survival mode for too long when it comes to family.

Then we talked about what is so hard for me right now. I’m in limbo between Father’s Day and the anniversary of my dad’s death, which is this Friday. Libbi wanted to know the last conversation I had with my father. I told her and I started to tear up. I swallowed them back as I always do. As we continued to discuss things, the tears became hotter and harder to hold back. A few dripped down and I actually found myself having to reach for a tissue box on the table. I cursed myself for crying and Libbi acknowledged how difficult this was for me. She is always reminding me to be gentle with myself.

I have to face my past with my father. I’ve done it regarding my mother and have reached a certain place with it. But with my father…that is a different story. I’ve avoided dealing with most of my childhood with him. I’ve touched on things here and there. As far as the meat of it goes, it’s buried underneath a surface of acceptance I have created. I have instructed myself to remember the good and bury the bad. The problem with this is that then it continues to creep up, like acid reflux. I will continue to run into things being triggered from my past until I deal with them fully.

I’m going to need a lot of Tums.