A couple of months ago, during one of the Meester’s traveling marathons, I had to cancel an appointment with my therapist. I told her to call to reschedule, and I never heard back from her. I was a little miffed, but more like, Ouch. Fired by my therapist, by way of total silence. Way uncool.
A month and a half goes by, and I realized, I’m not getting voicemail.
2+2 = Oooooooooooooooh, so she DID call me back. Oops.
So I call with my proverbial tail between my legs, and made an appointment. Since I’m no longer medicated and am probably a detriment to society, I figured I should probably talk to someone.
I love my therapist, I do. I’ve had such shitty luck with therapists, and this one pushes back and constructively criticizes me, without throwing a box of tissues at my head and calling me a “jackwagon.” Yesterday, she told me that I think too much. And that the thought of her thinking as much as I do, gives her a headache. And I told her, sure, that may be true. But like a born paraplegic, who has never walked, I don’t know any other way. That is to say, sure it impacts me on some level, but my hell has always been my own. I would love to be able to turn off my brain and just stare off into space, but the reality is, that if I stared off into space, I’d probably have a fucking anxiety attack, because the thought of space blows my mind and makes me hyperventilate. I don’t know what “not thinking” is like. Aren’t people always thinking?
I guess that’s what she means by thinking too much. I told her, now she knows why I’m two shades away from a Valium addiction.
What do you do to turn your brain off? I suck at relaxation techniques and yoga. I’ve accepted that I’m not good at yoga. People think this is insane, but really it’s OK to not be good at something, without sounding like I’m negative about it. I harbor no ill will or bitterness towards being bad at yoga.
But how the hell do you make it stop? Isn’t that called death?