Today in therapy, my therapist pushed me a bit to allow the physiological responses of my fear to manifest. He had me feel the pressure in my chest. I tightened my muscles and breathed quietly. He asked me to tighten my muscles until I couldn’t hold it any more, then to relax and breathe out forcefully through my mouth. I did that twice and then moved on to my feelings of nausea. I tightened my stomach and held it until my gag reflex kicked in. I was assured that his clients don’t usually vomit, but I held the garbage can near by.
My therapist explained that with neuroplasticity, that I could imagine myself throwing up all the introjects hundreds of times and slowly rewire my brain, or I could have a physical reaction which symbolizes throwing up all the bad things forced down my throat, and rewire much quicker. I don’t understand why it is important to have someone there for the experience.
I have difficulty with showing my vulnerability to others. It’s never been okay to feel how I feel. I am especially vulnerable with anything concerning my body. My body is the scene of many a crime. I don’t like putting it on display in any way–whether that means being naked or being ill. Perhaps a part of it is because he knows me.
In a hospital, it’s cold and clinical. I don’t care what the staff thinks of me. But to my therapist, I am a real human being. I’m someone with thoughts and dreams. For some reason, actually allowing someone who views me that way, to see how injured I am, scares me.
I couldn’t allow my body the freedom to throw up in his presence. How I feel with my own body stands in the way of viewing myself as a real person. I basically just feel like an entity who is conscious, but trapped in this vessel. I’m slowly coming around and treating my body better, but I still have a long way to go before it feels like home.