One of those times where I can’t really tell if I’m okay: I had a wonderful weekend with people I like, I’m looking forward to my oncoming holiday, I get positive news and have pleasant conversations on the phone. And nevertheless, something hurts. I don’t feel depressed, getting up and doing things is not the problem; there just is a hole in my chest. Lots of memories come up – things I never was angry about which (once again? still?) make breathing hard years after they happened. Things in books that show me that it’s not weak to struggle with the past for a long time. Things I never grieved about.
My old therapist once said that difficult memories surface when we have the strength to cope with them so this might be a positive sign. A few days ago I worried whether I would have anything to tell my new therapist. Today I know that there is enough and that it’s deeper than ever before.