So this am was the emergency therapy session. The good news is although I clearly over reacted to the lodger situation, i’m not completely flipped.
I am not fine. This is a hard thing for me. I am always fine… albeit through tears and gritted teeth but dammit i’m fine. So ok, I am not fine. It’s out there now, can’t take it back. I’m not supposed to be fine apparently. I may have grieved for the relationship but there is a whole load of other stuff I haven’t done. I’ve never really acknowledged my anger. Last year when Mark was ill and then as we finally started to see the collapse of our marriage, this year processing the divorce and dealing with the practical issues I have never really allowed myself to be angry. It’s either been impossible, can’t be angry with Mark for being ill or he will never get well, or unproductive, he’s gone, what’s the point? So it all got beaten, squished, trussed up and flung into a deep dark pit and forgotten about. Till the lodger made me go ‘pop’.
I am hulking out basically. All the kickboxing in the world isn’t going to fix my hurt, anger and resentment, although the KB in itself is a good thing (it’s bad when your therapist says ‘it’s probably just as well for the people you come into contact with you are training so hard’ right?). So I have to let it happen. I have to give myself the chance to rest sometimes, to cry and scream and throw stuff and to deal. It’s messy and unpredictable and frustrating and to me it seems like i’ve been dealing with all this for ages and I should be fine by now. Apparently not, so there we have it. I’m not ok. I will be, and i’ll cope in the meantime because, well, I always do, but ok is a lie right now.
He’s right though. Now that I have had the blow up, I can feel the anger, constantly simmering below the surface, a tight knot of tension and fury that I don’t know how to untangle.