Therapy

This is a picture I painted when I was in high school. It was really an experiment in colors and textures, just trying to create different effects with acrylic paints. My parents have it hanging in the guest room (which is where I am currently staying) so I wake up to it every morning. The parts that were my favorite back then are still my favorite now--the orange sunset and the stars in the middle. I painted each star...dot by dot. I can't even remember doing it...maybe because it made me want to poke my eyes out by the end.

Therapy has been interesting lately. The past month we have been doing this thing called "brainspotting."

Basically, I stare at a particular point in space and think about a certain subject--whatever we are trying to unravel. And then, I just let my thoughts wander...and say whatever comes to mind. A lot of times it brings up anxious feelings, like a tightness in my chest...but the past couple sessions I have just felt a lot of sadness.

I have been working on how I see myself and how others see me, also on the mind, body, soul connection.

Oftentimes, I feel very disjointed. As evidenced by my Ugly Duckling post, I do not really feel that who I am and what I look like are connected. I often feel that I am known only as what I look like, and not as who I really am. It's a battle I have been fighting ever since the divorce...and it's one I have not yet won.

What came out in this last therapy session was the fact that I feel as though I was "marrying material" for what I looked like, not necessarily who I was. I spent 8 years loving someone, hoping that they would get to know me...only to realize that I failed miserably. He had no idea who I was...or else our marriage would have had a chance.

So now...I have to figure out what to do with this realization...this downfall. I spent 8 years desperately trying to get the person I loved most to know me, and I failed. How can I think that I could even try again?

I may have to learn to live with the fact that no one will ever really know me...or ever really want to know me. I think that was part of the problem...the ex didn't care enough to really want to know me...because I was pretty--it didn't matter.

Easy on the eyes, easy on the brain.

It didn't work for me...I don't quite agree.

And maybe now, neither does he.