healing is difficult

looking back at how very gently the conversation went, you'd think my mind had it all figured out - and there was not much to lose sleep over- in fact, the first week was calm and devoid of turbulence. It makes sense then, why i took most of what she said for granted.
— i think you are doing very well by yourself, would you agree?
— yes, yes.
— it doesn’t seem to me that you have use for me anymore.
— *swallows saliva* but....
— i honestly do think so. *proceeds to list all the good i’d just narrated to have accomplished by myself*
— i agree.
— in view of that, I think we should be drawing our sessions to an end....
— *wordless* nods.
— i mean the scheduled ones. we can talk anytime, anywhere, any day you feel the need to talk a thing or two over.
— *under breath* sure.
— also, i’ll need you to write everything for our last and final session in three weeks. re-evaluate the goals we discussed. write your thoughts for me. also, add how you feel. especially about the ending of our sessions, I’d like to know. as honestly as you can. we’ll discuss it when you come.
and just like that, the first week went by without much notice; i was proud of myself for how far I’ve come - for the long days of crippling anxiety and fear of everything, the lone nights of self-doubt , questioning, utter sadness and everything in-between. heck, I had a mental note of how I was to update a thread with declaration of my grit and a dancing meme.
Unknown to me however, my joy was to remain as fleeting as ever. the second week did come and with it came mercilessly vengeance. one I wasn't sure I deserved or had merited, but one that tried all I'd thought I'd achieved, certainly.
I broke down, I cried, I lamented, I went out to dinner with friends, to parties and more parties, visits to mutuals- anything to keep my fears at bay. anything but the dread of having to confront the fact that the shadows of my anxiety had reared its ugly head. that the reason i jumped from function to function; as opposed to my much preferred solitude is the depression episode I feel incapable of sitting with.
Today, a day before my last session, I sit at my desk feeling aware of my emotions and of all the variants of undulating highs and lows I've experienced over the past three weeks.
Do I remain proud of my journey? most definitely.
Will the dark nights cease? probably not.
But do I trust my self-awareness to help me take cognizance of the inevitable challenges after therapy and see me through the harsh realities of life? Bet!
