more than once, my current therapist has asked me if i want to change. like if i want to be different than the way i am now, really fix the things that are broken about me. and my answer is yes, but also that i know that i work really hard at not facing certain things about myself. i’m good at avoiding. i’m fucking great at avoiding.

my previous therapist noticed this same problem. she even mentioned, one time, that she might not be the best person to help me and that she could help me try to find someone else. she had noted, more than once, that she had become frustrated, because i was really good at getting us focused on some semantic issue that, in the moment, always seemed important, but that she later realized didn’t accomplish anything except pushing us away from talking about something that made me uncomfortable. i knew she was right about this, because i had realized it, too.

i kind of panicked when she said this, because it felt like i was being rejected. even though i didn’t say anything, she tried to make it clear that this wasn’t the case. she just felt like she wasn’t quick or capable enough to push me in the way necessary. she framed this like a compliment and/or like it was a reflection of her inadequacy, but it felt like an admission that i’m so fucked up that she was just giving up. more than anything, though, it felt like an admission that she didn’t like me and was sick of talking to me. i was really scared that she was saying that she wouldn’t work with me anymore.

i said that i really wanted to keep meeting with her, and that i would really push myself to be aware and not try to avoid subjects. it felt like when i was dating my first girlfriend and she would be at her wit’s end because i had promised to do move in with her, but, yet again, had avoided doing it. i would go through the whole routine, telling her how sorry i was and how hard it was and how i wished i could just do it because she didn’t deserve this, and i would promise to really do it this time. more than once, i said that i would go get my stuff right now and move in right this minute. usually, in these situations, both of us were crying and she surely felt so bad for me that she always told me it was okay, i didn’t need to do it right now, just soon. at least once i promised i would do it the next day. she shouldn’t have been so kind, though, because i never did.* it wasn’t because i was lying or i didn’t love her; it was because i was so scared to make such a huge change, and once that emotional moment had passed it was too easy for me to convince myself of any number of good reasons why it wasn’t possible to do it right now.

and that’s the thing: they’re always good reasons. i have been doing this avoiding shit for a long time, and i don’t settle for nonsense. i think about my stuff a lot, and if it’s not logical, if it doesn’t stand up to scrutiny, then i don’t use it as an excuse. in the moment, i can fool not only myself, but my old girlfriend, my partner, my mom, my old therapist, my new therapist, etc. it’s really frustrating to realize that, while i do definitely want to feel better and do the work that will make me more healthy, i also will, every single time, do my best to sabotage myself and keep from facing the things i most need to confront, and i won’t even necessarily realize i’m doing it. (because, real talk, i do know when i’m doing it sometimes, especially by now.) it’s what made my previous therapist want to help me find someone new because she thinks she can’t help me and what makes my current therapist ask me if i really want to change and what makes me afraid that i’ll never change and i’ll never feel any better.

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my previous therapist was really smart, though, and she did figure out what i really didn’t want to talk about. one day, she wanted to stop what were talking about and address something that she had been wanting to address but wasn’t sure i was ready to talk about. she said she was going to ask me a question, and i could take as long as i needed to answer. there was a little over twenty minutes left in the session, so there was no rush. so she asked her question. i couldn’t answer, and i just sat there staring at the floor. she said it was okay, i should take my time. after about seven minutes (i know it was about seven minutes because i kept looking at the clock), she asked me to just describe how the question made me feel. i could not make words come out of my mouth. it was like i wanted to talk, and i was even thinking of words and my mouth was even hanging slightly open, but on the way out the words crashed into a wall. my hands went numb, followed by my arms and face; it was my first panic attack. (my skill at avoidance had always kept me out of situations that would have caused panic attacks in the past.) i bent my feet inwards, lining the soles of my shoes up perfectly over and over. we sat like that for the whole rest of the session. later, when i had calmed down, i wondered what that twenty minutes had been like for her. she did her best to assure me that it was okay. she said that my reaction made her even more sure that we needed to talk about this issue, but that she would give me some time before she tried to address it again. fortunately (and unfortunately, i guess), she never did bring it back up. my current therapist hasn’t figured it out yet. or maybe she has, and she wants to wait until she thinks i’m ready to bring it up.

*i did finally do it, but it took literally years longer than it should have. and while this was maybe (maybe) the most notable single example, she had to put up with this same shit every time there was a situation that called for me to act like a functioning, like, adult human person.