I have long had this image of Self-Loathing as either a dirty, shuffling wreck of a woman or someone very haughty with sharp fingernails and a sharper tongue. It turns out, however, that behind that disguise, SL may in fact be a little girl.
During the afternoon of the retreat, I start to work on our assignments, but I’m exhausted and emotionally drained.
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…
Even when therapeutic relationship is good, my sense that my therapist is getting tired of me is painfully close to the surface.
Often when I am depressed, a part of my brain is consumed by thoughts I don’t actively choose. They are not voices, per se; they don’t sound like someone else is talking to me. But in a way, they are like voices, repeatedly telling me things like, “I’m so bad. I’m a terrible person. I’m…
Getting to know the exiled part of me that has been hidden away is tricky when she’s shrouded in shame.