On the first morning of the retreat, we all read aloud the stories of our wounded inner child. And then we offer one another empathy and wise, tender words.
I spent last weekend at a women’s retreat run by my therapist, and it was a very big deal to me. It’s only this afternoon (Tuesday) that I have started to have room for thoughts about anything but the emotional impact of the past few days. How can I tell you about it? I’ve turned…
One day I wander into therapy and blurt out my embarrassing, intimate wish.
My emotions are so raw and close to the surface. I am so in need of care and comfort. I think I am conveying this to my therapist, but she isn’t seeing it, or her responses are too clinical or (my great fear, of course), she doesn’t want to meet it. Or, most likely explanation,…
Even when therapeutic relationship is good, my sense that my therapist is getting tired of me is painfully close to the surface.
Getting to know the exiled part of me that has been hidden away is tricky when she’s shrouded in shame.
If I could go back and teach my younger self about her body and developing sexual self, what would she want to learn?