This was the advice I gave to an associate recently when they told me how hard writing was for them lately. What was funny about this advice, was how I fail to take my own advice like many of us do. I’ve been filling the role of listener for the occasional person who thinks therapy is a waste of time and it irks me that it makes me realize I couldn’t undertake this venture professionally.
It’s not that I’m an ass, no, but I can’t understand how I can logically think through a situation, regardless if I’m in it or not, and those I listen to cannot. It’s a fight to even get them to acknowledge their errs even when they were the one’s who threw the first punch and then that happens and I just want to punch them, but I try to be a good friend by showing restraint. I have yet to punch anyone, more for the reason that I don’t want to be charged for assault, than that I don’t want to punch them.
It makes me wonder how I will help my children in the future if I have any. I am afraid of messing them up. I am terrified of screwing up an entire person that would rely on me so desperately and wholly because of course they are my responsibility. I am scared of repercussive effects that would follow them forever, affect their moods, personality and choices. I am afraid of leaving them unmothered or making them wish they were unmothered because of being a terrible role model. I am afraid of them dying or me dying and leaving them alone. Frankly I am just scared.
When I listen to these anonymous voices tell me what bothers them, I feel a sense of dread more for myself than their actual problem. Maybe that makes me selfish I also think, but then the unpaid session ends and I am left alone to think.
That part scares me more than the me wanting to punch anonymous faces.
Twenty-six down, twenty-six to go…