My therapist mentioned today that the fear of being judged is what leads to anxiety and on my first visit, I think I had that anxiety in full force. I mean, this is a first visit. She doesn't know me, I don't know her, and I am about to talk about an aspect of me that the vast majority of people I know aren't aware of. That's an anxious moment!
The session, though, was amazing and I did write about it a bit. The second session was more around where I am heading, how I am thinking about it, and what do I think I need to be doing to make it real. And while I was unsure of what we would talk about as I was going in, I did not feel anxious.
My therapist made a number of suggestions today and so I plan to start pursuing them. She really wants me to get out more, do normal things, be me. It's scary, to be honest. She's right though. When I was in my late 20s I was really starting to quest, to step out, to experience the world. Then I stopped. Why? Ah, the million doll-hair question. Partly because I was in a new "role" in my life and I wanted to be the best at it: the boyfriend. Hard to be the best boyfriend when you're in a skirt, no? At least that's how I perceived it.
My partner has been nothing but a supporter for me, sometimes an enabler when it comes to buying expensive dresses (ah, but I do love Kate Spade), this is all me. My head tells me that I need to be, at least in the eyes around us, the "boyfriend." Method acting in real life.
As I was leaving, my therapist asked if I wanted to be called Joanne. I said yes, please. She then asked if it was okay to call me that in the waiting room. I also said yes, I need to get used to my real name.
Yes, I think 2020 is the year of the real me. Finally.
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