I’m no good at drawing boundaries.
Ex-therapist called today when I didn’t show up for my appointment, even though I’d left her a voicemail saying I wasn’t coming back. I didn’t answer, and she left me a voicemail saying she thinks I should come back so we can talk about it. Um, no, I don’t think so. Really, lady, I think you should go hug a cactus, and also you’re a bad therapist.
But my method of communicating these things is…well, not communicating them. Part of me wants to go back again to tell her that therapists should have boundaries, especially ones who work with trauma patients, to tell her that it’s so incredibly hard for me to state a boundary that to have that ignored is incredibly triggering to the point of devastation, to tell her that I really hope she doesn’t bulldoze over her other patients because all that does is inflict more harm.
But what I will say is nothing, just like always.
(In a serendipitous turn of events, though, New Therapist 1.0, who I saw very briefly before she got cancer and went on hiatus, is back at work, so I’m going to start seeing her again. I got a much better feeling from her than NT2.0.)
I also haven’t e-mailed Ex-Boyfriend to tell him he cannot keep touching me if he wants to stay friends. Honestly, I’m not sure I want to stay friends because it’s upsetting me more and more…but on the other hand, he is my closest friend, and I do genuinely like him as a person. Sometimes I wish I could be more of a black-and-white thinker because it would make decisions like this easier: I could decide he was all bad and exclude him from my life without a second thought. Instead, I keep trying to make it work, in no small part because he has this desperate need to make it work, and I don’t want to hurt him. But that’s not a good reason to stay in a triggering relationship. I know that, but I can’t make myself walk away.
I don’t know. I just don’t know what to do.
In happier news, though, I am almost definitely getting this adorable puppy.
His name is Winston, he’s 13 weeks old, part German shepherd and part who knows what, and he’s housebroken and crate-trained already. And JUST LOOK AT HOW FUCKING CUTE HE IS! I’m hopefully going to meet him this weekend, and I might even be able to take him home with me then! It just depends on whether I can get someone to drive me–he’s about an hour away in Connecticut.