Pity

I had a good therapy session this week, in the way that typically happens: I went in with a list of things I thought I wanted to talk about, but actually ended up talking about something else for the whole hour. We’ve started meeting only once a month, which feels OK, but I’m thinking of asking for an in-between virtual session. We’ll see. Usually a month is fine, but sometimes it feels a bit long.

I had all these things I wanted to talk about, but we ended up talking entirely about my brother and my mom. These are not new feelings or new topics. But, I know that they’re my biggest things, and I still have work to do in these two areas.

I mentioned that I “feel nothing” when my mom is sad. That when she sobs uncontrollably at the airport, I am not moved. That when she texted me this week saying she was crying because she missed my grandma, I didn’t feel anything and didn’t text back.

My therapist retorted, “No, you don’t feel nothing. You feel anger. You feel rage. You just can’t let yourself admit that that’s what you’re feeling.”

She’s right.

I feel irritated by these events at best, angry or rage-filled at worst. I’m too tired at the moment to go into all the reasons WHY I feel that way, but it’s fair to say that it’s true.

She asked whether I feel pity for my mom. I said I do. That’s the truth. I do feel pity on her–for the mistakes she made, the bridges she burned, the way her life has ended up. She’s wildly unhappy, and I do feel pity for that.

My therapist told me I need to work on feeling that pity more. I need to recognize that her lift is pitiful and try to feel that rather than feel the anger, which is only hurting me.

Day 52.