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.
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,…
My critical voice says, “I can’t believe you acted like such a slut,” and “You want to make it out like you are some kind of victim, but you went along with it, so don’t pretend to be so innocent…”
After suffering from depression for well over 20 years, I’m taking it seriously in a way I never did before. It used to be I’d take an anti-depressant and go to therapy once every two weeks, not feel that great but manage to take care of my life so, okay, good enough. Not anymore. Considering…
Getting to know the exiled part of me that has been hidden away is tricky when she’s shrouded in shame.
I think I’m handling it all so well, but I’m kidding myself. I want to be that mature and understanding person, but in fact I’m a bratty child inside.
There is a lot to learn from the experience of being triggered in a therapy session.