Therapy Session

I want to capture this feeling. I just finished a therapy session (I've been seeing one now for a few weeks) and we talked about Matt, perfectionism, and radical acceptance). In the spirit of not wanting to be a perfectionist, I decided to sit down and start writing instead of waiting for the 'perfect' moment to strike. 

Where did we leave off? I live with Jason now. We moved in about 8 months ago, to a sleek, perfect 2-bedroom/2-bathroom apartment with a sleek, perfect view of Brooklyn from 49 floors up. Even though I have a life that most people kill for, I, unable to let myself enjoy things or be happy for myself, have spent a good amount of that time questioning everything. Surprisingly, and this one's a shocker, money and the perfect relationship did not fix all my problems. 

I still have social anxiety, coming and going in waves; in fact, I had (what I think was) my first panic attack a few weeks ago, which launched my long-needed therapy journey. For this, I am proud of myself (stating this here as I more often need to give myself credit where credit is due). I still am neutral-to-unsatisfied at my job, which gives me good pay and benefits, but which leaves me craving something more fulfilling. 

The good news is I've slightly improved my relationship/dependency on weed, one I've had for the better part of six years now. I'm now only using a few times per week, and trying to avoid it in some (but not all) social situations--In fact, I'm going to a Knicks watch party tonight and have told myself I'll abstain the best I can. I'm working out decently regularly and eating decently healthy, or maybe my small-ish portion sizes are what's keeping me thin--either way, my body image is pretty good.

But none of the above items were what I came into therapy wanting to address today.

Matt is back. Or should I say, he's very weakly trying to make a comeback in my life. The question is, will I let him? I'm pretty sure the answer is no. 

This isn't the first time he's reached out to me post-Jason. After he called me for two hours in the Fall, telling me of his deteriorating relationship and career crisis, we met for a forbidden lunch. I can call it what it was: emotional cheating; but a part of me felt like I wouldn't be able to fully let him go unless I let myself see him in person and get the chance to say goodbye, once and for all, face to face. In the days after that meeting, I grieved him. But a few weeks ago, he DM'd me on Spotify. And then, after using all my willpower to ignore him, he requested to follow me on Instagram. This time, I wasn't as strong. Part of me wanted him to see all those pictures I had, happy with Jason--a life he had said no to, and continued to refuse, for three whole years when he had chosen Victoria, the big titty Asian girl, time and time again. I had been on the other side, and now I had the power to make him hurt.

But with great power comes great responsibility. And it turns out, having responsibility isn't really my thing. Actively refusing Matt, when I never had had the option to do so before, was proving very difficult. It's cast a shadow on my relationship that has kept me from radically accepting Jason and choosing my happiness with him. My therapist told me to work on Radical Acceptance: not necessarily forgiveness, but reducing my suffering and working through the pain.

There are two forks in the road: on one side, reliving the past--asking "What if?" Refusing to move on because the pain is familiar, and the pain makes me feel connected to him. 

But on the other side is Radical Acceptance. I can be grateful for the time we spent together, and the person I changed into as a result of our relationship. I can hear what was once 'our song' in a Bodega and let myself reminisc for a minute on what that meant for me, but be happy for what I currently have now.

I have agency. I have options. I hold the power. I'm not at the mercy of fate or signs, whether they're real or imaginary.

On the same token, I have to let myself grieve. I'm allowed to be sad. I'm allowed to hold two truths at once: that Matt changed me, that I will never replicate parts what we had with someone else, and there will be moments when I'm reminded of that, and I will miss him. I have to let him go. And as my eyes well up when I write this, I know It's time to.

Kayla (my therapist) thinks that part of my dissatisfaction in love and life is my pursuit of perfectionism. It shows up in sneaky ways. It wasn't just the painstaking way I decorated the apartment, my indecisiveness when choosing a rug, a stool, a lamp, a bed frame. But in the ways that I can't trust myself to know when I'm happy, and when it's a farse. My indecisiveness in my job, not knowing if there's something better, or more fulfilling, or transformative--and, in a huge way, my relationship--the pressure to find the perfect guy, at the right time, who fulfills all of my needs and more, who fills in the gaps of my life and mirrors me in ways I didn't think I needed. Jason has turned me into a woman, but the part of me that wants Matt still longs to be a girl. In the words of Britney Spears,

"I'm not a girl,
not yet a woman,
all I need is time, a moment that is mine,
somewhere in-between."

I may not be a fully-formed woman but I do know that I want to build a life with Jason. And what I know, even stronger more than that, is I want to leave Matt behind so my identity is no longer melded with his. Our separation is nearly complete but there is still some old, goupy adhesive sticking us together and it's time for me to do the dreaded task of getting out the bottle of Olive Oil and vigorously scrubbing until there's no longer any residue. 

And if there's one thing I know how to do, it's clean house.