The value in the struggle of therapy.
That is perhaps the first struggle of any type of psychotherapy or deep internal work; the anxiety and fear. It is confronting to walk into a room knowing I am going to be asked to face up to my true self and explore my deepest reality. Sure I could hide behind the masks I have been crafting for years, but that would negate the reason for being there in the first place. Instead I have learned to see the anxiety for what it is; a positive. It is a sign that what I am doing means something to me, and is important. If I didn't have a sense of anxiety before being in a situation that evokes such powerful feelings of vulnerability and pain, I would say either the walls I have up are so thick I have even myself fooled, or I have somehow become so wise and content that I have nothing internal worth working through. Thankfully, I am years beyond my protective layer being thick enough to fool myself, but I am also many lifetimes away from having nothing internal I can do to improve my wellbeing.
A day in the life of PTSD.
With my heart pumping hard and muscles unable to let go, I am incapable of doing anything yet. I know this will pass if I let myself feel it, but the act of lying here, in such pain, stuck in my mind with no one able to help; it's torture. I have spent all night reliving the memories I have been trying to push back into the dark recesses of my mind for years. After a trigger, night time is where they come back out. When my conscious guard is down and my subconscious reminds me just how much trauma I still have to work through. In the early hours of this morning, my mind brought forth another new one. Another memory from my past that up until now had been locked away and forgotten. A memory that had me waking up with a scream in my throat; but these screams are almost always stifled by the dry heaving they provoke.