babylxlah
Member
- Feb 6, 2026
- 8
I've gotten myself into therapy, yippee! I feel a little like our past few sessions have not bee super helpful due to them being introductory sessions but I'm really trying. Today my husband has a shit day at work relating to an incident which is traumatic for us both, moreso him. He takes out a lot of that frustration and triggering behaviour on me - and now I know my session tomorrow morning is going to be wasted trying to come down from a stressor that isn't even my fault.
When I think about it, I don't understand how I'm supposed to even get a chance. 50 minute sessions, once a week, so much happens in a week and I'm stuck using my precious 50 minutes to have to recover from a tense situation with my husband. However this whole thing could just be solved if my HUSBAND was in therapy. He has no one else to vent to, no one else to comfort him, he doesn't want to go to therapy for one reason or another which all seems so pathetic.
So I get home after my shit day, to my pissy husband, to knowing im going to waste my session tomorrow on HIS shit. HIS reaction because he cant manage HIS traumas.
Welp, I could go ctb. I feel like I am trying to swim laps with a bag full of rocks attached to me. The constant pull and push and grind of being there for everyone, of being the emotional friend, who comforts and problem solves and carries and carries and I'm so so tired.
I feel everything closing in, but slowly, like the dark inches towards me little by little every time I have to carry something else while I stay drowning, and wasting my therapy sessions venting about my life and getting gentle validation which feels like glorified slop. Maybe I should be in a facility, that way I am safe and unburdened and maybe have a chance.
Could just ctb though.
When I think about it, I don't understand how I'm supposed to even get a chance. 50 minute sessions, once a week, so much happens in a week and I'm stuck using my precious 50 minutes to have to recover from a tense situation with my husband. However this whole thing could just be solved if my HUSBAND was in therapy. He has no one else to vent to, no one else to comfort him, he doesn't want to go to therapy for one reason or another which all seems so pathetic.
So I get home after my shit day, to my pissy husband, to knowing im going to waste my session tomorrow on HIS shit. HIS reaction because he cant manage HIS traumas.
Welp, I could go ctb. I feel like I am trying to swim laps with a bag full of rocks attached to me. The constant pull and push and grind of being there for everyone, of being the emotional friend, who comforts and problem solves and carries and carries and I'm so so tired.
I feel everything closing in, but slowly, like the dark inches towards me little by little every time I have to carry something else while I stay drowning, and wasting my therapy sessions venting about my life and getting gentle validation which feels like glorified slop. Maybe I should be in a facility, that way I am safe and unburdened and maybe have a chance.
Could just ctb though.
