Revealing secrets

 *Be advised: This is a long blog post. *

This week's session took place yesterday instead of today like it normally is due to my therapist leaving for the Thanksgiving holiday.

As always we covered quite a lot in our hour long session. First of all I told her about finally finding a friend here in Denton. She was very happy to hear this and she knows just how significant this is to me; exactly what it means to me.

We reached a point in our conversation where I struggled to tell her the truth about something. Something I feel I just can't reveal because I'm afraid of what she might think. I'm afraid that she might misunderstand.

The thing is that I don't exactly know why I can't tell her. Why I'm holding this one thing back from her.  I trust her I really do. I know she's just trying to help me. If I can't tell her what's wrong then she can't do much to help me. I have to be honest with her and with this particular thing but I struggle to do so.

I feel like I just can't tell her for some reason. It's hard for me to talk about it. I'm sure it's frustrating to her even though she doesn't give that impression. I just know that if I was her, I'd probably feel a little bit of frustration and perhaps a bit hurt that my client cannot trust me enough to tell the truth.

I guess I'm just afraid. Afraid of what anyone would think by revealing this. Afraid to admit it because then perhaps it would be misinterpreted. Afraid that it might make it seem worse than it really was. That maybe I'd become resentful revealing it.

Yet I have already determined that it's partly because of this that some things are the way they are.

It's just a struggle and honestly  I feel it's the last big thing I'm keeping from my therapist. It's almost like the last piece of the puzzle.  Once I reveal it, I'm sure things will become clearer; make much more sense. Perhaps it's the one thing that will help explain a lot of my problems. I don't know.

I've revealed a lot to her at this point. She knows pretty much everything there is to know about me and my life. I've told her pretty much all I could.  I've told her about my being in counseling previously. I've told her about The Incident. I've told her how I've felt like disappearing for awhile just to not have to deal with some of my problems for awhile. A lot of things I've revealed here in this blog and more, I've told her.

Except for this. This is really the only thing I have left. The last thing I'm keeping from her.
 Perhaps part of me is afraid to reveal all to her? Perhaps I'm afraid to let someone know the real me? Let them get to see the real me? Perhaps I'm afraid to let go entirely and let someone see how vulnerable I really am? Regardless if this person is trying to help me.

Ever since we got to the subject towards the end of our session and I couldn't bring myself to tell her quite yet, I've been struggling with the idea. I'm torn because I want to tell her and I know I should. She deserves to know this in order to be able to help me. But at the same time, there's still the fear of what it might reveal; what it might say about me; what she might think.

After our session, I had another errand to run on campus and just couldn't stop thinking about telling her. By the time I was heading back past the clinic to catch the bus, I had made up my mind: I decided to tell her. I would've gone right into the clinic and told her then if I could. That's how much I wanted to tell her. I just wanted to get it over with before I chickened out again. I even thought about calling her and telling her, although I'm sure that wouldn't be a great idea necessarily. I just have to keep this desire in mind when I go for my next session.

It's not going to be easy to tell her but I just have to do it.  I asked my friend for advice since I know she's also in therapy and she told me to just take a deep breathe and tell her. So that's what I'm going to do.

And there I go again; talking about everything else and basically avoiding the reason I really wanted to write this blog.

The real reason I wanted to write this blog is because I wanted to reveal what it is that I'm struggling to tell my therapist. I've thought about it since last night and I feel like perhaps revealing it in writing; in my blog; will make it easier when I finally reveal it to my therapist next week.  After all, it's seemed to work before.  I've talked about stuff here before I ever mentioned it to my therapist.

I haven't mentioned this but growing up I would get into trouble at school. Knowing me now, many people wouldn't think that I was in ISS (In School Suspension) more than once as a child but I was. I only got into trouble in Elementary School.

I pushed things, I'll admit.  I didn't really learn my lesson the first time when I would get into trouble. There were a few behavioral issues but I wasn't a big troublemaker. I was not the "problem" student at all. In fact, most of my teachers that remember me, remember me as someone who was an overachiever. They remember me in a positive light.  I eventually did improve and by the time I was in Middle School, I was someone who didn't get in trouble.  I was the "good" girl.

Still though, I did get into trouble and I was actually scared to get into trouble. Being that my dad was a P.E. teacher, I was a "teacher" kid.  However, my dad worked on the Air Force Base so I never actually had to deal with him at my school. But, because he was still a teacher, other teachers knew him and would let him know things.

That was the problem. I would get into trouble and usually when I did, my dad would know before I even got home and explained myself. I'll admit that I was afraid to get into trouble even though I still did. It didn't stop me completely. But still, I remember being scared of getting into trouble because of the punishment I would receive as a result. 

Now before I finally reveal what that punishment was, I have a few more things to say.  First off, my parents did the best they could. They were punished as children the same way my brother and I were.
I don't blame them for what they did. They just did the best they could.

Second, I'm almost certain that's it's because of this punishment, that my relationship with my dad isn't as close as it could be. I'll admit that it was because of this punishment that I was also scared of my dad. He was the stricter parent.  Still though, I loved my dad and I still love my dad. I really do.

I also just want to say that the punishment is a bit controversial and I guess that's also partly why I'm afraid to say it. Because people have different opinions on this. I also just want to say that the punishment might make it seem as though my dad was a terrible person and that's not true at all.

*takes deep breath* 

The punishment was that my dad would spank me with a belt on my bottom whenever I got into trouble.

It's hard for me to admit this. It really is. It's a painful memory of mine. I honestly still cringe at the thought of this punishment.

Did it teach me a lesson? I don't really know. Maybe. But it certainly has impacted me. I know it's impacted my relationship with my dad. I'm not really that close to him. I mean, I'm close to him but I'm certainly closer to my mom than I am to my dad. I really think this is a reason why. As it is, I think I'm still a bit afraid to talk to him.

I sometimes feel as though that he doesn't really understand me. That he expects different things from me or wants me to be different than what I am.

Again, this is how he was raised. How both my parents were raised. They were both punished this way.  That's just how they were disciplined and how they chose to discipline my brother and I. I admit that I don't like it and I'm sure it has had an impact on both me and my problem. I wouldn't doubt that it's because of this that we both have some mental health issues.

I've heard the arguments for and against spanking. That's why I say it's a controversial subject. Some people see no problem with it and others say it's wrong. I think it's because of this controversy that I'm afraid to tell this to people.  Being the librarian I am, I've done some research online that spanking contributes to some issues. But I've heard other people say they were punished the same way as children, and they grew up to be just fine.
Maybe I'm just a more sensitive individual and this greatly impacted me even though I didn't really know it until now. I just know I didn't like it when I was a child. I was afraid.

As long as I'm being honest here, I feel like I should also mention that there were a few times when I was almost a teenager and when I was a teenager that my dad pointed out my weight to me. He thought a few times I was putting on a bit of weight. It hurt me to hear that but I guess it didn't impact me that much. At least not from what I can tell. I say this because I never really focused on my weight. I didn't go to the extremes dieting or exercising or anything like that. I never even developed an eating disorder either because of this.

I've never been terribly overweight or skinny. I've never really had a really big problem with my weight or anything.  I've pretty much always considered myself to be average in terms of my weight. I've never even really been someone who ate a lot of junk food to begin with. I've also never really been all that athletic. I'm not a big sports person or even exercise person really.  I know I could be more in shape than I am right now but it's not something that really bothers me a great deal. I know that there are some things I cannot do because I'm not all that strong. I don't do a lot of exercise and I know it. I know I should try to get more into shape. But the point is that I'm generally fine with the way I am right now.  Yet sometimes I feel as though my dad isn't that fine with how I am.

Now looking at all this, maybe this does explain a lot in terms of my problems. Maybe I just don't give such things enough thought as contributing to my problems now.

At least I'm being honest now. I'm trying to be honest. Perhaps admitting these things here will make it easier for me to admit to my therapist on Wednesday.

I'm hopeful about it. It's not going to be easy but after admitting it here, it seems like it's going to be easier. I can do it now. I have to do it.

Wish me luck!