As per agreement, I do not e-mail my therapist except to schedule appointments. I wanted to send this, though, but as I was writing it, it got so complex and dark that I decided it was wisest to put it on hold.
I am tired of coming to therapy and I don’t know what to do. I feel like therapy is keeping me alive and I’m not sure that I really want this anymore. I feel grateful that you do not want to give up on me. But I feel like you are wasting your time and energy on me.
I feel very driven right now into a dark, dark place. I feel that I do not want to be pulled from this place. I want to be in this place and fall deeper into it and be comforted by it.
I am comforted by loud, raucous music these days. I listen to it to drown out the world and not hear my ugliness reflected in it. I sneak around my building, my neighborhood, everywhere. It has turned into a complex web of actions all built for the purpose of avoiding humans.
I feel like I am slipping away from living. I feel resentful that I have to go to appointments and get help. I feel like The Three Musketeers–you, Dr. P, and Dr. K–are running around my body pecking at it and trying to steal it, and I am holding onto the tiny bit of it that I have left. The part that is left is like a piece of straw, gasping for breath.
I feel like saying goodbye, and I don’t know what to do.
I’ve decided that I am not going to send this e-mail. Instead, I will read this to you in our session. See you tomorrow.