Attempting to process

Not sure how to start processing Saturday's session. She is always running late, which you think would bother me, but it doesn't. Gives me time to sorta prepare myself. Sure I joke about paying my copay and leaving, but I don't really mean it. I guess I deflect with humor more than I ever realized. I've always been sarcastic, but have never really taken the time to realize that I have built it into my defense mechanism. When I'm not comfortable with something, rather than allowing myself to sit in it, I find a way to quickly poke fun at myself and move on as fast as I can. It surprises me how naturally it comes out now. But I digress. I like that she is always running late because it gives me some quiet time to prepare. To have alone time in my own bubble. But I mostly don't mind it because it tells me something about her. Money isn't her driving force, the clock doesn't drive her. People do. Sure she is getting paid to listen to me whine bitch and complain, but if money was the most important thing, or sessions would end promptly at 50 min not running on average about 80 min without being charged extra for it. I feel safer because I guess there is a part of it that makes me feel like what I have to say matters, even if it is only myself in the end that it matters to. She laughs at my jokes and gets me to laugh too. They don't come across as those fake type "I'm laughing because I'm paid to help you feel good about yourself." It is either genuine, or she could win an academy award. Hah! Sidetracked again! We touched on some key stuff, not in depth but enough to hit home a little closer than I thought it would. Usually it takes longer for people to figure me out. Normally I can talk about things without it affecting me. We talked about my mom. I wish I could be done with that. I'm over it. Or so I thought. Apparently there is more work to be done...and now that I'm a mother too (I wasn't yet the last time I worked through my feelings towards my mom), I guess I have to face it all again. I'm beginning to see that I'm really good at locking things up in my head/heart and then losing all the keys. I'm afraid of the things I may find when we start opening locked and sealed vaults. I'm afraid of who I really am. I'm afraid of what I may do with this unlocked knowledge. I'm afraid of hurting those I care about. I seem to suddenly be afraid of a lot of things. I hate being afraid and yet I think it is a constant state of being for me. That and stress. We touched that too. I hate being stressed but don't know how not to be. From the time I was an infant I would be overwhelmed by stuff. Apparently I never grew out of it. I hate change and yet get bored and restless being in one place too long. ADHD much anyone?! She asked me what I do when things get to be too much. Do I have a happy place I think of in my head. Took me a minute to realize, nope. I have no specific memory/location that I have locked onto as my happy place. It is hard to find an isolated memory where I was happy and truly relaxed with no agenda in the world. I think I need one. But how do you find one?  I still have skeletons in my closet I'm not ready to tell her yet. Things I'm not ready to investigate further. Some old things, some new things. And I haven't told her yet I think I could be pregnant. That will be a while other ton of stuff to wade through. I know therapy is good for me. But it is hard. I don't know how to explain it better than that. And no one that hasn't ever truly been in therapy for an extended period of time (i.e. Not just there to work out a specific issue and then done and over with) can truly understand quite what I mean. It isn't physical exhaustion, but more an emotional one. The processing doesn't end when the session does. Some of the big work comes after the fact. In high school I hid after my sessions to give me time to process. Sometimes for many hours. As an adult, not only is the mental work harder, but I don't have that same ability to disappear. Responsibilities. Real world living. Haven't figured out why the work is harder as an adult, maybe before I didn't have the needed life experiences to truly process my childhood events and how they still rear their ugly head from time to time and mess with the here and now....I'm tired...no more now...sleep...maybe more later...