on security blankets and touchstones

yesterday i finally signed paperwork for a therapy practice, called ally (actually!!! wild name, which i am very excited about), and i understood this was a huge step for me. previously, my experiences with therapy have always been temporary, brief, interactions, first with my family (we went maybe twice but my father felt undermined and insecure about needing therapy, and having to listen to a third party about what went on in his private life), second when i went to counseling provided by my school (it was initially 4 weeks but regina//gina thankfully extended it a little longer…she gave me book recommendations i never read :/ but i appreciated the time she helped me), the third time was also through my school, but through macaulay honors college, after my father had passed away, i belatedly sought out someone to talk about the feelings with. this lasted for 6 months, but following that, i did not find someone to take her place. most recently, i had a one-time peer-counseling session with lav-nix which was super duper helpful, though it was only an hour, but the first time spent with My People. people who looked like me, who were queer AND asian and it felt so good to be told that my feelings were valid and not silly and to help me make them make sense.

in the absence of a trained mental health professional, i have been gifted the support, the emotional labor, the kindness, the consideration, of someone who knows themself very very well - and is willing to show up for the people they care about, and the folks in their community.

i hadn't even realized the extent to which i'd been supported, until i called them a friend and realized i wasn't engaging in very good friend behavior at all, but rather projecting and relying on their consistency and compassion to feel sane and okay in this whacky wild world. i don't want to continue to make them feel needed, i want to assure them they are wanted for the person they are, and not the service and comfort they've thanklessly provided me through their time knowing me.

one of the most powerful acts of service they've gifted me with is de-stigmatizing and making me realize that therapy isn't a scary, useless process (lol oh dad, i never thought your griping and groaning about people needing therapists being quacks would have found a way to plant a seed in my head...). it is a space to seek out, where you can establish a relationship with someone on the basis of trust and mutual consent (one person will be talking about their feelings, thoughts, experiences, and life - whether past present or future, while the other one who has studied the human existence, mind, and methods in which to help them make sense of it all, will offer their expertise, their wisdom, their understanding, and support the other- with whatever their goals may be). it can be structured, and i can decide how to utilize the time spent with whoever i deem trust-worthy to help keep me afloat.

i realize that i struggled with this concept of therapy, because it always seemed so one-sided, and because i've heard of so many horror stories (of therapists abandoning my friends in their times of high crisis). this was coupled with the realization that many of my notable friendships ended up being like one-way therapy sessions, because even the friends that did support me, did not realize that i didn't believe their kind words. i had imposter syndrome even in my closest friendships. i felt like because they didn't really Know me, that they didn't mean it, that they were just saying it… - this stems from my tumultuous home life, in which my father would say wildly hurtful things, and then come back a couple hours telling me that he didn't mean it, even though i know in his darkest heart of hearts, he did. angry words come from honest hearts - and even if he didn't want to mean the things he said, there was a part of him that did. so it makes sense that i wasn't able to believe the kind things people said about me either. i FORGIVE the version of myself that didn't know how to accept the love i longed for, the love that i deserved, and the love that i could have reveled in.

(*i described my home/family as dysfunctional, for lack of bolder, better terms, and because the dysfunction didn't leave physical marks, i don't think there was much for the adults in my life to do...Mrs. Dunbar provided a sanctuary before school and at least once a week in art class, in high school Ms. Vittiglio provided sanctuary and support before, during and after school in the library…)

the most ironic, and probably painful part of all this introspection and reflection, is the stark knowledge and understanding that my sweet innocent sister did try to pour the love into me, they showered me with so much love, tender love that i don't know where they found, unassuming, observant love of an older sister that i didn't recognize. they would draw me beautiful pictures, books, write me cards and notes…they would bring me gifts…and i spurned it because i didn't recognize what this was, and i did not feel deserving, or realize that i could accept this kind of treatment. they were the only person in my life who tried to pour into me with no expectation or demand for something in return. she was the only person who Knew me, really KNEW what my lived experience was, really Saw what life was like…and eventually stopped trying.

i FORGIVE the julie that didn't know they were deserving of love. i forgive the julie that couldn't recognize love in it's purest form. i forgive the julie that took over two decades to finally see and understand things a little clearer. i forgive the julie that struggled and had to learn the hard way. i forgive the julie that accepted abuse disguised as love. i forgive the julie that continued the cycle of harm. i forgive the julie that sought out love in all the wrong spaces. i forgive the julie that continually chose patterns over change. i forgive the julie that did not know better. i forgive the julie that chose assimilation over authenticity. i forgive the julie that never truly knew what safety could feel like, and settled for the illusion of safety. i forgive julie, and i am going to lay her to rest now. she will exist in memories, in pictures, in the relics of a childhood that resides in the past. i won't bury her, she got us here, and she did what she could to survive, and i am so proud of her. i am grateful for her getting us here as unscathed as she could. i am grateful her for learning, and retaining how she was able to. i am grateful to her for making the connections that have survived, and the connections that have not.

i have nothing to mourn, because everything i have experienced, everything i have gone through, every choice that i have made up until this moment has led me here today. and right now, i am finishing up this post from the 10th floor of a beautiful hotel room that i am staying with my beloved rabbi about to go to a Jews in ALL hues service and welcome in Yom Kippur.

i am endlessly grateful for my overwhelming number of blessings, and cannot wait to see what's in store for this upcoming year.

g'mar chatima tova!

i like that the reflection of the lamp looks like a moon. reminds me of this night light my sister and i grew up with. it was shaped like a moon from ikea. i miss the innocence. i miss my youth. but nothing to mourn, something beautiful to remember, a moment of joy.