I had been wanting to finish a different piece of writing recently, but I have gotten a bit disheartened by writing since I started therapy. That isn’t the truth, it’s more like I’ve been blocked by what is going on surrounding therapy. Plus, I shouldn’t say started therapy, I’ve restarted it, going back since my old therapist moved on. My mom asked me this weekend why I stopped in the first place and I explained that actually, it wasn’t my choice, my therapist at the time had finished his training and needed to move on.

I restarted therapy because I’ve felt for a while that I needed to be back. Just the other evening, I binge watched the show Feel Good (2020-2021) and had way too many moments where I felt not just empathy, but like my own trauma was on display. When I hear people say they’ve been triggered, that’s what I imagine the serious part of it to be like, because I had to walk away from the television to remind myself to breathe through the pain. I don’t want to recall exactly what scenes were most upsetting, only in part to avoid spoilers. The other reason I wanted to restart therapy is because I can feel, when I go on dates that I really enjoy, I get really into that person and just want them in my life forever, longing for certainty so I can finally drop my guard.

I have to elaborate on that feeling and just be honest, as painful as it will be for me to admit. I met a guy recently and really felt a small connection (both of our parents are Mexican, English is our second language, educated and professional) as well as that physical attraction which is hard to deny. From our conversation, it felt like he was more tuned out though, less interested than I was. I didn’t worry too much about it, acknowledging that I felt an intense attraction but that it was possible he didn’t. After all, I figured it was just coffee, not an actual date. I had even shown up in gym clothes as I wanted to go work out after. So I tried not to make too much of it, tried to remind myself that everyone’s going on about how this is the summer of reopening, we’re supposed to all be out here enjoying ourselves.

I pushed it out of my mind and tried to keep busy, which I find I’ve been doing a lot of lately. We kept chatting via text and maybe two or three weeks later he commented that he liked the shirtless pictures I had been putting on my Grindr profile. So yes, this is the point where I admit that I’m vain enough to use shirtless pics on those apps. I wasn’t trying to get his attention, but I’ll admit I was glad he said that. I told him that I liked hairy chests as well and had noticed his chest hair peaking out of his shirt. We decided to grab dinner and drinks and a couple in and over at his place, he told me he was sorry for not following up sooner but that he had actually been busy and then I wasn’t available, at which point I let slip that I felt that I liked him more than he liked me. I wasn’t too sure what he said after that, having sobered up a bit but not enough but I also felt incredibly dorky for having admitted that. We changed the topic, shared a joint and then his bed, I stayed the night and we got brunch the next day even.

Throughout the next week, I tried to ignore him so as to not overwhelm him, again, this entire time I could feel all my feelings threatening to burst forth in word vomit. Closer to the weekend though, I sent him a text asking if he was free Friday to hang out. I didn’t specify, perhaps I should have, that I was planning on being gone all weekend. Well, I didn’t get a response and truthfully, I can’t put into words the anxiety and panic that I was being ghosted. I checked social media for his presence, checked the apps. I considered driving by his place, running by even, but I knew better. Still, even though I don’t really know this guy, I’ve already imagined a life in which he is the perfect partner, the perfect person to stay by my side, because maybe he wouldn’t abandon me or walk out of my life.

It ended up that he hadn’t ghosted, but simply thought he’d hit sent and never responded. I spent the weekend in San Diego to hide from everyone, the anxiety climbing until he texted me on Saturday although I tried to play up my dismissiveness. Which was unfortunate because Sunday while I was out hiking El Cajon Mountain, my phone reset and I lost his and many other contacts. I had to stop by his place and leave a note asking him to text me, although he didn’t see it and just checked in on me anyway and we got dinner. Again, more anxiety on the hike and the entire weekend, a worrying inability to relax and just enjoy the getaway. The irony at this point is that I’m not even sure if I like him or not, but I felt a need to know him and to be assured in his presence.

The intensity of my feelings lately has not been proportional with the situations around me and that’s something that I have been struggling with. I told my therapist in my last session that I felt a sense of gender dysphoria, legitimately wishing I had been born and raised female, so that as a young child, when grown people around me were yelling in my face, someone could have stepped in to stop that. Perhaps, had I been a girl instead, my mother would not have felt as safe leaving me with the male relative that molested me. Perhaps, had I been born a girl… I don’t want to go down that particular spiral again, because it’s still there. Not so much the desire to have been born a girl, no, but rather a desire to avoid conflict, to avoid stress, to avoid life. To only live within a perfect bubble that doesn’t challenge me, doesn’t let me grow, forever resting for life’s big challenges.

I feel like this is the most unstable I have been in a long time and it directly conflicts with the stability of my work life and personal life. It’s true that I’m avoiding relationships for a bit. Sorry, again, the lies I tell people. My mom asked me if I was seeing anyone and I said no, I’m focusing on myself in therapy. But that is without a doubt, not true. I am absolutely open to a relationship, open to finding someone who doesn’t make me feel lonely, open to ending and cutting off the guys who are mostly friends with benefits, even though the ones with which I have some attachment. It’s uncertainty that I am trying to avoid and yet I allow certain men to hang around, us using each other’s bodies but trying to avoid emotional conversations. I can’t relax enough for that, always on the lookout for something. Again, the most unstable I’ve been, teetering every way back and forth internally, afraid it will all collapse.

When I went out on that hike in San Diego, I had the opportunity to just give up and die from exposure. It was a very hot day and though I was prepared to hike for a long time, I didn’t expect to hike for seven hours nor did I expect the heat to be that harsh. I had checked local weather conditions and it wasn’t supposed to be that hot. But it was and there were times I could have given up. I didn’t. I stopped and took a rest three or so times, finding shade where I could and trying my best to keep going. Why is it that I can trust my body sometimes to pull through, to survive, but I can’t trust that I’ll be able to handle life on my own. I am very aware that I am lonely, but the reason approaching relationships feels so charged right now is because I feel like I need to have someone else in my life so I can improve for them, because I can’t do it for myself.

I studied hard and pushed myself because I wanted to be a role model for my younger siblings, because I wanted to be able to help them out. And yes, I do enjoy math and science, but that doesn’t mean I did engineering for myself. I did it for my family and now I’m having an emotional crisis, deriving little joy out of my workplace, constantly trying to avoid people and thus doing my job poorly. My mind isn’t the only thing awash, although it is, but my heart as well.

Maybe that’s what I need to focus on in therapy, learning how to take care of my emotions too. My mom asked me how my life was and I let her know I had restarted therapy. I told her what was on my mind, that I didn’t feel great about the fact that, had I told the child therapist everything, she would have been deported and myself and my sisters placed in foster homes. This was not a threat, it was a deeply uncomfortable fact, both of us being forced to recognize that the system here in the US considers what was happening enough of an issue to investigate and prevent; coupled with US’s immigration policy, I don’t think my mom would have been allowed to stay here. My mom asked if I really thought the way she hit me warranted that and I responded by letting her know that the problem is she was trying to hide behind the cultural practice of using force as a disciplinary tool but that she wasn’t recognizing that she didn’t hit me to punish me, she didn’t hit me in response to clearly established rules. She hit me because she was frustrated, or tired, or angry, or any other sort of emotion that wasn’t mine to manage. She began to cry and said something like she recognized that my sister sometimes seems that way too, that she tries to help out as much as possible because she’s worried of what she’s passed on. Although that was nice to hear, although I understand that my relationship with my mother, after a lot of work, after therapy on her part, could one day be something a little more positive, it’s hard not to have that stable relationship in my life already…

On the note of parents, yesterday was Father’s Day. My stepdad finally did what I had told them he should have done from day one, he asked that I be included. I cancelled the plans I had scheduled and agreed to spend the day with everyone. I had several times in the recent years told my parents that if my stepdad had just decided, and if my mom had let him as they’re honestly both to blame, if my stepdad had decided to just tell me he was my dad and tried to include me more from day one, he and I would have had a healthier relationship. After all, he’s been with my mom since I was three. We spent the day together, had breakfast, took his niece shopping, grabbed ice cream with all the family and enjoyed a nice day.

My aunt called me while I was driving from restaurant to home, my mom and one of my sister’s had tagged along in my car so they heard the call. My aunt sounded distressed, acknowledging that my mom had said hi but not really connecting. She asked if I could call her back and I said no worries auntie, you’re not interrupting anything right now. She mentioned that my bio-dad was feeling sad and was asking if I could call him. I gave a non-committal answer, noting internally that I didn’t even have his number. Once she hung up, I told my mom not to try to run interference. She said no, she was going to let me handle it as I’m an adult. But I reflected that I had just told her in the restaurant, one of the other rules, that my prior therapist had told me I couldn’t possibly care for my biodad, there was too much resentment, too much abuse from him for me to safely care for him. In the time since my last serious stint of therapy and now, California appears to have passed a law to try and limit dependent and senior abuse as there was a fourth scenario under which the therapist would break confidentiality and report to the proper authorities.

I didn’t end up calling him and I don’t think I will. In fact, I was going in the opposite direction, thinking of asking my aunts to stop keeping me updated on his life. He didn’t want to be around me as a child or a young adult, now that I am a responsible person of a certain age, now that I am someone he can lean on, he feels comfortable being around. I already feel that pressure from my grandmother and mom, both who at least can say they were involved in raising me and want to reap the grain while denying the chaff of what they have sown. I can’t think about the way my biological father impacted my life and development without wanting to tear that trauma out of me, unlive that past, forget that memory. If I was a drunkard this is when I’d sign off to go for a drink. Instead, having unloaded some of this, I think I can finally go back to focusing, to exercise a bit and get a good night’s rest.