Yellow, green, brown - full -
blooming, with the newborn sun
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Showing posts with label Therapy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Therapy. Show all posts
Friday, April 3, 2015
Wednesday, December 17, 2014
Crying is the Same at All Ages
When I have panic attacks, there's always one thing I end up doing. I'll sit somewhere secluded, rock myself back and forth, and make shushing noises. At some point during this, I invariably find myself wondering why I'm doing that? I never had an answer and I couldn't even tell if it helped, but I always ended up doing it anyway.
But guess what! I know why I do it now!
On Sunday, my mom, my sister Kimberly, and I were chatting after church. As Kin is still hugely pregnant, we naturally got onto the topic of babies and Kin told us about one of the new things she had learned. It's called "The 5 S's" or something like that. If I remember right, the 5 S's are swaddling, sleeping, swinging... something else, and shushing. She told us about how when a baby is crying you need to shush louder than they're crying so they can hear you, and rock them back and forth more vigorously if they're crying harder. It sounds odd, and likely the mental picture this gives you is also odd, but it is apparently very soothing to the baby. Saying, "Shhh, shhhh," over and over calms a baby down.
After Kin mentioned that, I had a moment of, "Oh! That's why I do it!" Thinking back, whenever I do start shushing myself when I'm panicking, it does stop my crying. My sister mentioned that shushing is also soothing to an adult. Why? I have no idea. When I picture someone shushing me when I'm not upset, it seems like it would be obnoxious, but when I'm in tears, it's not. Weird. I suppose it's just something that stayed with me from my baby years. It calmed me then, it calms me now. Maybe it's relaxing because when someone is saying, "Shhh," the noise is loud enough that you can hear it past your tears, and it thus reminds you that someone is with you and watching over you.
I feel slightly cool that my natural instinct when I'm panicking is clinically proven to be soothing. It's also nice that I won't have to wonder what the heck I'm doing next time I have a panic attack. Yay!
But guess what! I know why I do it now!
On Sunday, my mom, my sister Kimberly, and I were chatting after church. As Kin is still hugely pregnant, we naturally got onto the topic of babies and Kin told us about one of the new things she had learned. It's called "The 5 S's" or something like that. If I remember right, the 5 S's are swaddling, sleeping, swinging... something else, and shushing. She told us about how when a baby is crying you need to shush louder than they're crying so they can hear you, and rock them back and forth more vigorously if they're crying harder. It sounds odd, and likely the mental picture this gives you is also odd, but it is apparently very soothing to the baby. Saying, "Shhh, shhhh," over and over calms a baby down.
After Kin mentioned that, I had a moment of, "Oh! That's why I do it!" Thinking back, whenever I do start shushing myself when I'm panicking, it does stop my crying. My sister mentioned that shushing is also soothing to an adult. Why? I have no idea. When I picture someone shushing me when I'm not upset, it seems like it would be obnoxious, but when I'm in tears, it's not. Weird. I suppose it's just something that stayed with me from my baby years. It calmed me then, it calms me now. Maybe it's relaxing because when someone is saying, "Shhh," the noise is loud enough that you can hear it past your tears, and it thus reminds you that someone is with you and watching over you.
I feel slightly cool that my natural instinct when I'm panicking is clinically proven to be soothing. It's also nice that I won't have to wonder what the heck I'm doing next time I have a panic attack. Yay!
Friday, September 26, 2014
Courage and Fear: A Strange Marriage
(If you read my last post, this is the eventual epiphany I had later that day.)
Why do we feel fear? Well, the simple answer is that it's a survival instinct. We're not likely to waltz into a dangerous situation if we're afraid. Fear is what stops us from swimming with alligators and skydiving without a parachute, to use extreme examples. To put a different way, fear is a protector.
So, if fear is a protector, why do we view it as evil? That answer is fairly simple too. Have you ever been hiking and you hear some rustling sound off the trail and you instantly think it's a bear or something similar? Logically, it's not likely to be a bear. It's probably just a squirrel or something. However, when faced with the unknown, our minds have a habit of instantly jumping to the worst-case scenario. After all, if you're prepared for the worst, you're prepared for anything. Thus, we tend to not like fear very much because it forces us to think about thinks we'd probably rather not think about. More than that, fear is an instinct meant to keep us safe, but it's not some sentient being. It's the body's reaction to possible danger. But some times scary things are good for us, but the mind doesn't know that. So we are taught that fear is evil because it so often keeps us from progression and opportunities.
That's what makes courage look so divine. Courage means you can face fear, move through it, keep moving forward despite the instinct to hold still. It's essentially the hero fighting the villain kind of thing. It's also highly thought of because it's rare. Fear is an instinct, but courage is more of an acquired trait. Since it doesn't come as naturally as fear, it's harder to find.
At least, that's what we're taught.
Fear is a protector. Is protecting and safety a bad thing? Courage is our soldier. Is fighting always a good thing? On the other hand, one is a soldier and the other a protector. Their names are different, but aren't those basically the same thing?
Here's what I think: We often think that fear is of the devil because it can keep us from doing good things. However (and this is just my opinion, not gospel doctrine or anything), Heavenly Father is the one who created us and we are only capable of thinking, feeling, and doing what he created us to think, feel, and do. That includes fear. Satan's armory consists only of what we have. He twists good things against us. I think he exaggerates our fear to make it seem more like a monster and thus keep us from doing good things.
We're taught that courage and fear are opposites. Courage means to resist fear - to fight it off, but doesn't the very act of fighting force the bad feelings to remain ever present? I don't think courage is exemplified through battles. I think courage isn't so much a soldier as it is acceptance. Courage is that one that looks at the terrors that fear presents and says, "Thanks for the warning, but let's keep going anyway." Fear keeps us safe, but when it keeps us from growing, courage moves us forward.
A famous saying is "the only thing to fear is fear itself", but I now think that's wrong. Fear itself isn't something to be resisted or fought. Humans were meant to feel fear for a reason. So, shouldn't we allow ourselves to feel it? Feel it, accept it, let it go through you, for once you stop fighting it, you give it the chance to fade away. My point is, I don't think fear is something we should try to get rid of. We need it. We need is as much as we need courage. When those feelings stop battling and start uniting, is there anything that can't be done?
Essentially, it's okay to be afraid. Resisting it is what makes it take control and halts you from progression. Fear will find a way to make itself heard, so listen to it. Only then can you find the courage to decide to keep moving forward anyway.
So, here's to the courage and fear in all of us, not enemies or opponents, but partners.
Why do we feel fear? Well, the simple answer is that it's a survival instinct. We're not likely to waltz into a dangerous situation if we're afraid. Fear is what stops us from swimming with alligators and skydiving without a parachute, to use extreme examples. To put a different way, fear is a protector.
So, if fear is a protector, why do we view it as evil? That answer is fairly simple too. Have you ever been hiking and you hear some rustling sound off the trail and you instantly think it's a bear or something similar? Logically, it's not likely to be a bear. It's probably just a squirrel or something. However, when faced with the unknown, our minds have a habit of instantly jumping to the worst-case scenario. After all, if you're prepared for the worst, you're prepared for anything. Thus, we tend to not like fear very much because it forces us to think about thinks we'd probably rather not think about. More than that, fear is an instinct meant to keep us safe, but it's not some sentient being. It's the body's reaction to possible danger. But some times scary things are good for us, but the mind doesn't know that. So we are taught that fear is evil because it so often keeps us from progression and opportunities.
That's what makes courage look so divine. Courage means you can face fear, move through it, keep moving forward despite the instinct to hold still. It's essentially the hero fighting the villain kind of thing. It's also highly thought of because it's rare. Fear is an instinct, but courage is more of an acquired trait. Since it doesn't come as naturally as fear, it's harder to find.
At least, that's what we're taught.
Fear is a protector. Is protecting and safety a bad thing? Courage is our soldier. Is fighting always a good thing? On the other hand, one is a soldier and the other a protector. Their names are different, but aren't those basically the same thing?
Here's what I think: We often think that fear is of the devil because it can keep us from doing good things. However (and this is just my opinion, not gospel doctrine or anything), Heavenly Father is the one who created us and we are only capable of thinking, feeling, and doing what he created us to think, feel, and do. That includes fear. Satan's armory consists only of what we have. He twists good things against us. I think he exaggerates our fear to make it seem more like a monster and thus keep us from doing good things.
We're taught that courage and fear are opposites. Courage means to resist fear - to fight it off, but doesn't the very act of fighting force the bad feelings to remain ever present? I don't think courage is exemplified through battles. I think courage isn't so much a soldier as it is acceptance. Courage is that one that looks at the terrors that fear presents and says, "Thanks for the warning, but let's keep going anyway." Fear keeps us safe, but when it keeps us from growing, courage moves us forward.
A famous saying is "the only thing to fear is fear itself", but I now think that's wrong. Fear itself isn't something to be resisted or fought. Humans were meant to feel fear for a reason. So, shouldn't we allow ourselves to feel it? Feel it, accept it, let it go through you, for once you stop fighting it, you give it the chance to fade away. My point is, I don't think fear is something we should try to get rid of. We need it. We need is as much as we need courage. When those feelings stop battling and start uniting, is there anything that can't be done?
Essentially, it's okay to be afraid. Resisting it is what makes it take control and halts you from progression. Fear will find a way to make itself heard, so listen to it. Only then can you find the courage to decide to keep moving forward anyway.
So, here's to the courage and fear in all of us, not enemies or opponents, but partners.
Dreams and Nightmares
I was having a bit of a writerly struggle for awhile. I think it's something that pretty much every writer has to struggle with in some form or another. The only reason I can think of is because writing - well, creating anything at all is often more of a spiritual act than it is physical or mental. That may sound cheesy, but aren't the best stories the ones told from someone's heart and not their hands?
Below is a page I wrote to myself of what I was feeling. I'm sharing it because I think many people view writers, artists, even actors sometimes as . . . I don't know, less somehow because all we do is entertain, and some may not see that as a helpful contribution to the world. So, here is a glimpse into the mind of a frightened writer.
"The older I get and the more innocence I lose in growth, the more my passions hurt me. Once I could write whenever and whatever and it was always fun. Perhaps now I over think it. I try too hard now to make an honest story so it loses the magic. I'm so experienced now that it's . . . something else.
"I used to be able to write my dreams and it never bothered me that they weren't perfect - because to me, they were. They were just how I saw them, so why need I be hurt? But now, what I see isn't so easily transferred to paper. Now, when I write my dreams, my ink dirties the world and it becomes a nightmare. Once the dreams reach the mortal world, they're no longer pure. It's like I'm a bridge from heaven to earth, but, because I'm no longer a child, the passage that I am is . . . jagged and muddy and the dreams can't come through me without being broken. Now I'm afraid to write. It doesn't matter how I do it, what I write, or how I feel before - I feel terrible afterwards. I'm not even sure why or how it gets there and I know just as much about getting rid of it.
"I'm not the first to feel this way. Norman Mailer once said, "Every book I write kills me a little more." I understand that feeling, but why does it exist? Writing is a passion, and I think I can do good with it. After all, stories affect people. But are writers doomed to destroy themselves so that someone may be touched by our words? I believe that such would make it worth it, but it doesn't mean that I can do it. Like I said, I'm afraid to write. I can't do it because it hurts so much. How can I ever do good if I can't find the apathy to do so?
"I wish I could ask all those who came before, how do I do it? How did you? How do you brave through the pain to find the dream again? How do you make the pain stop? How do you find the heart to write a story when every time you do, it takes away your soul? From a young writer to a wise one, what am I supposed to do?"
Below is a page I wrote to myself of what I was feeling. I'm sharing it because I think many people view writers, artists, even actors sometimes as . . . I don't know, less somehow because all we do is entertain, and some may not see that as a helpful contribution to the world. So, here is a glimpse into the mind of a frightened writer.
"The older I get and the more innocence I lose in growth, the more my passions hurt me. Once I could write whenever and whatever and it was always fun. Perhaps now I over think it. I try too hard now to make an honest story so it loses the magic. I'm so experienced now that it's . . . something else.
"I used to be able to write my dreams and it never bothered me that they weren't perfect - because to me, they were. They were just how I saw them, so why need I be hurt? But now, what I see isn't so easily transferred to paper. Now, when I write my dreams, my ink dirties the world and it becomes a nightmare. Once the dreams reach the mortal world, they're no longer pure. It's like I'm a bridge from heaven to earth, but, because I'm no longer a child, the passage that I am is . . . jagged and muddy and the dreams can't come through me without being broken. Now I'm afraid to write. It doesn't matter how I do it, what I write, or how I feel before - I feel terrible afterwards. I'm not even sure why or how it gets there and I know just as much about getting rid of it.
"I'm not the first to feel this way. Norman Mailer once said, "Every book I write kills me a little more." I understand that feeling, but why does it exist? Writing is a passion, and I think I can do good with it. After all, stories affect people. But are writers doomed to destroy themselves so that someone may be touched by our words? I believe that such would make it worth it, but it doesn't mean that I can do it. Like I said, I'm afraid to write. I can't do it because it hurts so much. How can I ever do good if I can't find the apathy to do so?
"I wish I could ask all those who came before, how do I do it? How did you? How do you brave through the pain to find the dream again? How do you make the pain stop? How do you find the heart to write a story when every time you do, it takes away your soul? From a young writer to a wise one, what am I supposed to do?"
Thursday, July 31, 2014
A Chat with Peter and Anni
So the recent problem I've been having with sitting down and trying to write my Perfectionist/Anxiety story is getting Peter and Anni to let me do it. At this point, they trust me enough to actually write the story, but they're very uncomfortable with the idea that I'm going to be forcing them together and making them . . . affiliate and communicate with each other. They aren't exactly fond of each other, you know. (Translation for those who don't understand Parts Therapy: My problem now isn't with worrying about failing because of a crappy story, but rather that I have to really get to know two parts of me that don't go together at all and that both have caused me pain in the past)
I mentioned this problem to my Therapist today and that what I wanted to work on in that section was getting to two to learn to . . . I can't remember exactly what I said, something about how I wanted them to learn to be around each other. So my Therapist suggested bringing them out and having them talk to each other - sort of like a couples therapy session for my Perfectionist and Anxiety. So I acted out what Peter said, what Anni said, and my Self was in another chair and I acted out what she said too. It was a lot easier for me to do than it sounds, but that could be because I'm a Discovery Writer so I'm used to learning about characters and how they feel and react towards certain things on the fly. Roughly, this is the "chat" that followed. The talk started with Peter telling Anni how he felt towards her:
Peter: I don't like that you feel like you have to make Shannan scared in order to keep her safe. I don't like that you feel like you need to hurt her to save her some pain - and this pain doesn't even exist. You imagine terrible things that could happen if she goes outside, but more often than not, they're just irrational and convoluted delusions. You try to "save" her from figments of your own imagination by keeping her shut up. You try to keep her away from human contact so she won't be hurt by them, but in doing so, you let her sink into a lonely hole. I wish that you would let me take over because what I do for her is better.
Anni: You think that the only way for her to be strong is for her to be perfect. Yet, she has grown up in a world full of imperfection, and she understands that no one is meant to be perfect - nor can they ever be. Your constant pushing her to be so anyways is setting her up to fail. I have to keep her away from you because you push her towards something that doesn't exist - that she could never reach. You give her false hope and false drive. Perfection doesn't exist. That is real. What I protect her from is people who hurt her.
Self: The both of you are inherently working towards the same goal. Both of you want to keep me safe, but more than that, you both want to make me stronger and braver and better overall. You both want the same things for me, but you both have very different methods. I'm so grateful to both of you for looking out for me and always trying to keep me safe, but I know that neither of you enjoy doing what you do. I know that both of you want to be something different, a new support for me. So, I ask that you consider that instead of fighting for dominance over me, why not stand together, learn from each other, discover new roles for yourselves with each other, and make me stronger together.
Peter: True, I don't want to do what I do, but I'm worried that if I don't, she's just going to get rejected and made weaker. I have to be the way that I am because it's the only way that she's ever going to make it in this world.
Therapist: Peter, can I ask you something?
Peter: Sure.
Therapist: You're worried about her getting hurt, but I wonder, do you remember what you saw last week, how she reparented and helped those exiles? How did you feel about that?
Peter: Well, I was intrigued and a little relieved. I mean, I know that she's in control and I'm glad. But this is the first I've seen her in control in a long time and I don't know how long that's going to last.
Therapist: Can I ask, what is it about "perfect" that's so important?
Peter: It's the only way she'll be accepted.
Therapist: But the world is full of imperfect people. Pretend there are two doors in my office here. One of them is brown and shabby and sort of decrepit looking. The other is perfect and pristine and shining. Which would you want her to go through.
Peter: Well, the perfect one.
Therapist: What do you think will be on the other side?
Peter: . . . Something nice.
Therapist: What if I told you that when you opened the perfect door, there was only a brick wall on the other side. Because, there is no perfect world. It doesn't exist. So what do you think is behind the shabby, decrepit door?
Peter: . . . People?
Therapist: Yes. All sorts of imperfect people walking around in an imperfect world, and you know what? They're all smiling. There are birds with crooked beaks who still sing beautiful tunes, there are small and large trees that still grow beautiful leaves, there are still people of all kinds walking around doing imperfect things and smiling anyway. So do you think that maybe, instead of shooting for Shannan to be perfect, she should try to be just good enough?
Peter: I'm worried that if I slack she won't be strong enough.
Therapist: What role would you rather carry in her?
Peter: . . . . I'd rather stand beside her. Pull her forward when she hesitates, pull her up when she falls, that sort of thing.
Therapist: Don't you think you can do that?
Peter: I want to, but I can't. Anni always gets in the way. I have to assert my dominance or there's no way I'll be heard and Shannan'll always be stuck in a lonely pit.
Therapist: Ah. You know, this is sort of like couples therapy here. Often when I work with couples, they find ways to blame each other for all sorts of things, so I try to get them to also own up to something they may have done wrong. To sort of recognize something that maybe they could do better on. So Peter, is there anything that you think you could "own"?
Peter: Well, I suppose I'm too harsh sometimes. I feel like I have to use my rough tactics to get to Shannan, but I suppose that's also what brings Anni out in the first place. Maybe if I wasn't so harsh, Anni wouldn't need to step in.
Therapist: Would you like to say something to her?
Peter: *sigh* Anni, I don't like that you dominate Shannan's soul. But, maybe you're right that I need to scare her less. So, is there anyway that you would let me . . . help?
Therapist: Anni, what do you think of that?
Anni: I still don't trust you. I know that all you really want is to give Shannan courage and make her stronger, but I'm worried you'll just weaken her more. However, I'm willing to take the chance at least once.
Therapist: So, when Shannan does something a little outside her comfort zone this week, will you let Peter stand next to you, maybe help you learn to be strong and braver too.
Anni: As long as he doesn't touch me.
Therapist: Peter, do you think you could learn something from Anni too? Maybe how to be more compassionate and empathetic towards others?
Peter: I'm willing to try it out.
Self: Thanks so much guys for being willing to do this for me. I really appreciate that you both are trying to make me stronger and better, and I'm so grateful that you trust me enough to take this sort of step and try something new to help me progress. Thanks for letting me be in charge, and thanks for taking these chances with me. I'm glad I can count on you guys to keep my best interest at heart, and I hope we can all find a way to become who we want to be.
More or less, that's what happened. It flowed a little more naturally during the actual session; this is all just roughly what I'm recalling from memory so it sounds a little weird. It was really neat having that sort of in depth discussion between those too, and it helped a lot to have my Therapist there guiding them to better perspectives. It's a bit of a relief to find Peter learning that it may be better to just be "good enough" rather than being perfect. I'm also excited about the idea of them learning from each other. Because Peter wants to be someone who gives me courage and strength, and Anni wants to be someone who gives me compassion and empathy - I don't know, but the idea of two conflicting forces finding harmony through learning from each other is exciting to me. This brings a lot more calm when I think about writing their story too. I'm really starting to love these sides of me, the more I get to know them. Sort of ironic, isn't it? I guess Ender Wiggin was right, the more you get to know your enemies, the more you love them. Something like that.
My Therapist also showed me this video, since both Peter and Anni are so worried about me never being accepted, and I thought I'd share it with you, because it's nice. :)
I mentioned this problem to my Therapist today and that what I wanted to work on in that section was getting to two to learn to . . . I can't remember exactly what I said, something about how I wanted them to learn to be around each other. So my Therapist suggested bringing them out and having them talk to each other - sort of like a couples therapy session for my Perfectionist and Anxiety. So I acted out what Peter said, what Anni said, and my Self was in another chair and I acted out what she said too. It was a lot easier for me to do than it sounds, but that could be because I'm a Discovery Writer so I'm used to learning about characters and how they feel and react towards certain things on the fly. Roughly, this is the "chat" that followed. The talk started with Peter telling Anni how he felt towards her:
Peter: I don't like that you feel like you have to make Shannan scared in order to keep her safe. I don't like that you feel like you need to hurt her to save her some pain - and this pain doesn't even exist. You imagine terrible things that could happen if she goes outside, but more often than not, they're just irrational and convoluted delusions. You try to "save" her from figments of your own imagination by keeping her shut up. You try to keep her away from human contact so she won't be hurt by them, but in doing so, you let her sink into a lonely hole. I wish that you would let me take over because what I do for her is better.
Anni: You think that the only way for her to be strong is for her to be perfect. Yet, she has grown up in a world full of imperfection, and she understands that no one is meant to be perfect - nor can they ever be. Your constant pushing her to be so anyways is setting her up to fail. I have to keep her away from you because you push her towards something that doesn't exist - that she could never reach. You give her false hope and false drive. Perfection doesn't exist. That is real. What I protect her from is people who hurt her.
Self: The both of you are inherently working towards the same goal. Both of you want to keep me safe, but more than that, you both want to make me stronger and braver and better overall. You both want the same things for me, but you both have very different methods. I'm so grateful to both of you for looking out for me and always trying to keep me safe, but I know that neither of you enjoy doing what you do. I know that both of you want to be something different, a new support for me. So, I ask that you consider that instead of fighting for dominance over me, why not stand together, learn from each other, discover new roles for yourselves with each other, and make me stronger together.
Peter: True, I don't want to do what I do, but I'm worried that if I don't, she's just going to get rejected and made weaker. I have to be the way that I am because it's the only way that she's ever going to make it in this world.
Therapist: Peter, can I ask you something?
Peter: Sure.
Therapist: You're worried about her getting hurt, but I wonder, do you remember what you saw last week, how she reparented and helped those exiles? How did you feel about that?
Peter: Well, I was intrigued and a little relieved. I mean, I know that she's in control and I'm glad. But this is the first I've seen her in control in a long time and I don't know how long that's going to last.
Therapist: Can I ask, what is it about "perfect" that's so important?
Peter: It's the only way she'll be accepted.
Therapist: But the world is full of imperfect people. Pretend there are two doors in my office here. One of them is brown and shabby and sort of decrepit looking. The other is perfect and pristine and shining. Which would you want her to go through.
Peter: Well, the perfect one.
Therapist: What do you think will be on the other side?
Peter: . . . Something nice.
Therapist: What if I told you that when you opened the perfect door, there was only a brick wall on the other side. Because, there is no perfect world. It doesn't exist. So what do you think is behind the shabby, decrepit door?
Peter: . . . People?
Therapist: Yes. All sorts of imperfect people walking around in an imperfect world, and you know what? They're all smiling. There are birds with crooked beaks who still sing beautiful tunes, there are small and large trees that still grow beautiful leaves, there are still people of all kinds walking around doing imperfect things and smiling anyway. So do you think that maybe, instead of shooting for Shannan to be perfect, she should try to be just good enough?
Peter: I'm worried that if I slack she won't be strong enough.
Therapist: What role would you rather carry in her?
Peter: . . . . I'd rather stand beside her. Pull her forward when she hesitates, pull her up when she falls, that sort of thing.
Therapist: Don't you think you can do that?
Peter: I want to, but I can't. Anni always gets in the way. I have to assert my dominance or there's no way I'll be heard and Shannan'll always be stuck in a lonely pit.
Therapist: Ah. You know, this is sort of like couples therapy here. Often when I work with couples, they find ways to blame each other for all sorts of things, so I try to get them to also own up to something they may have done wrong. To sort of recognize something that maybe they could do better on. So Peter, is there anything that you think you could "own"?
Peter: Well, I suppose I'm too harsh sometimes. I feel like I have to use my rough tactics to get to Shannan, but I suppose that's also what brings Anni out in the first place. Maybe if I wasn't so harsh, Anni wouldn't need to step in.
Therapist: Would you like to say something to her?
Peter: *sigh* Anni, I don't like that you dominate Shannan's soul. But, maybe you're right that I need to scare her less. So, is there anyway that you would let me . . . help?
Therapist: Anni, what do you think of that?
Anni: I still don't trust you. I know that all you really want is to give Shannan courage and make her stronger, but I'm worried you'll just weaken her more. However, I'm willing to take the chance at least once.
Therapist: So, when Shannan does something a little outside her comfort zone this week, will you let Peter stand next to you, maybe help you learn to be strong and braver too.
Anni: As long as he doesn't touch me.
Therapist: Peter, do you think you could learn something from Anni too? Maybe how to be more compassionate and empathetic towards others?
Peter: I'm willing to try it out.
Self: Thanks so much guys for being willing to do this for me. I really appreciate that you both are trying to make me stronger and better, and I'm so grateful that you trust me enough to take this sort of step and try something new to help me progress. Thanks for letting me be in charge, and thanks for taking these chances with me. I'm glad I can count on you guys to keep my best interest at heart, and I hope we can all find a way to become who we want to be.
More or less, that's what happened. It flowed a little more naturally during the actual session; this is all just roughly what I'm recalling from memory so it sounds a little weird. It was really neat having that sort of in depth discussion between those too, and it helped a lot to have my Therapist there guiding them to better perspectives. It's a bit of a relief to find Peter learning that it may be better to just be "good enough" rather than being perfect. I'm also excited about the idea of them learning from each other. Because Peter wants to be someone who gives me courage and strength, and Anni wants to be someone who gives me compassion and empathy - I don't know, but the idea of two conflicting forces finding harmony through learning from each other is exciting to me. This brings a lot more calm when I think about writing their story too. I'm really starting to love these sides of me, the more I get to know them. Sort of ironic, isn't it? I guess Ender Wiggin was right, the more you get to know your enemies, the more you love them. Something like that.
My Therapist also showed me this video, since both Peter and Anni are so worried about me never being accepted, and I thought I'd share it with you, because it's nice. :)
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