How Can I Move Forward if I Can’t Trust My Inner Voice?

I have come to understand that it takes me a lot of time to process most decisions. It’s not that I don’t understand them – it’s that my mind needs time to explore and analyze the issue from different viewpoints, possible understandings – it needs to ask further questions. People don’t really like this. In the hustle and bustle of life, having someone hesitate to react, to want time to think things over, doesn’t settle well. Still, I am trying to quell my initial response. What may feel like anger when a friend does not react as supportive as I want, turns out to be fear that they may not love me. My feelings and choices, therefore, change drastically.

Well, that’s one way of looking at it. I mean, that’s what I tell people and what I try to tell myself. But the truth is: I am terrified that no matter how much I process something, my answer will be wrong. And I have begun to realize that perhaps part of this “processing” has to do with the events from my past that have made me constantly question my choices, feelings, and thoughts. I worry that the processing might not be me trying to find the truth, but rather trying to push aside the doubts and the voices that tell me contradictory, “truthful” answers.

Since I was a child, people have told me that I am over-sensitive; I think too much; I over-exagerrate the impact of things; that my memories are embellished and magnified; that the things that happened as a child didn’t really happen the way I felt them happen. In short, that what I think and feel is wrong, misguided, naive, and warped. This all was supported by my low self-esteem, and growing depression and anxiety.

I stopped trusting my decisions. I forced myself into situations I did not want to be in; I pushed my feelings down; and I hated myself and felt so ashamed and disgusted at myself for even feeling what I felt. I lost all trust in my abilities to make decisions, to know the right thing to do – whether it is how to feel about what someone has done; how to react to something; what life decisions are “right” for me; if it’s okay to make decisions others think are wrong, etc.

I still constantly question what I feel. I wonder, is this real? Am I making this up? Why would I make it up? Am I being reasonable? Is this okay? Am I being a baby? What is the difference between what I feel and what is real? I question my choices because I question the validity of my inner voice.

I question choices as simple as what to eat or what to wear, as well as large decisions like what step I should take in my life. I have so many voices in my head telling me completely different “truths” while questioning each one of them. It’s like they are all yelling their answers at me and getting in side arguments with each other – in my head; at the same time; while I am trying to decide whether to leave the house or not. It’s exhausting.

It leaves me wondering which voice is authentic. Which one is “right,” and which one is trying to somehow lead me to ruin and self-sabotage. I get so far in my head about what is in my head, I find myself frozen, confused, panicked. In the past, I think alcohol helped slow my thinking down; allowed me to make decisions without actually feeling whether or not it was what I wanted – just doing whatever others wanted. It was a way of temporarily fleeing from the chaos of fear and failure that I felt constantly.

They say that in all real relationships you need trust. But if you can’t trust yourself, I don’t think you can trust anyone. I want to believe I trust people, but I constantly imagine what they must be really thinking in their head. They say they love me, that they understand, that they support my decisions; but maybe it’s actually disappointment, forced sympathy, perhaps adulation in hopes of getting what they really want. Which one is it? Is one simply what I want to believe? Should I trust what I feel? Or am I being naive, trying to believe something because it’s what I want to be truth. How do you know which “truth” is right?

If without trust you cannot have intimacy, authenticity, depth, love, or truth in a relationship, where does that leave me – with both myself and others? How do I move forward? How do I let people into my life and believe they are there because they sincerely want to be? How do I stop freezing up with every decision because I have lost the connection between what I feel and what I think? I believe that is the core of the problem. If your inner truth is found through mind and body, and you no longer trust your emotions, thoughts, or feelings, how do you make a decision?

This component of self-hate has stifled so much of my life and led me into traumatic events which I now have to face. It’s frightening and I’m scared.

At least I think I am.

Men; Chapter 32: Male Therapists

A quick note on the title: I have a shit ton of issues with men – to the point that there is no way to just write one post about them. My list of problems run long and deep, and I decided maybe the best way to examine them is to take each issue one at a time. So yeah, I’m starting with Chapter 32. After all, if you were reading a book of essays, it wouldn’t matter what chapter you started with – so roll with it, folks.

I have always had female therapists. I mean, there was never any doubt otherwise. With all of my issues (as mentioned above) with men, the idea of sitting across from one and explaining why I’ve never dated, been intimate while sober, or dealt with the sexual assaults and rape I have experienced – it’s unfounded.

So I am starting this DBT workshop in February. Part of DBT is having a DBT therapist. I have no money and the organization I am working with has a funny idea of what “sliding scale” means. The only way to afford the therapist is to see their intern. They have one. And you got it, it’s a man.

When I first spoke to him on the phone, I flipped out. He just sounded like this young, super hot guy. I know, can you really tell if a guy is hot from his voice? Yeah, you can. I went online and found a picture of him with a description. The good news is he looked much older, almost balding, and had three children and a wife. Okay, unattractive, older but not too old, and settled. That’s not too intimidating.

So I saw him this week. He really needs a new picture. He’s not like speechless hot, but he’s definitely not that old, not balding, and has a fantastic energy. I told him off the bat my concerns with having a male therapist and he tried to explain that he wouldn’t try to understand the female perspective and I could call him out on it.

Yeah…that’s not the issue. I don’t think because he’s a man he’s not going to understand – he’s a therapist – I think he transcends that simplicity of heterosexual gender. So I’ve been trying to decide what “it” is. And I think it’s this: I can tell a woman and a man the same thing. I can tell them about my depression, my mishaps, even my assaults. But when I tell a woman, and it’s not because I think she can understand, but I feel safe enough to be vulnerable (at least if I trust and respect her). I can not only tell her the facts, I can explain the emotional weight and consequence behind it. I can explain the disgust or fear or self-hate and I don’t just say it – I express it. With men, I pull back to protect my vulnerability. I tell them what happened, I might even tell them the feelings it brought up, but I tell them about it like telling a story. I’m self-removed. Like I’d say something personal and immediately follow with: “but whatever. shit happens. emotional fuck up. i get it. blah blah blah.” I’m already dismissing its’ significance and depth.

I think my unhealthy boundaries with men as a child; spending time with boys growing up where I was seen as asexual even though I certainly didn’t see them that way; my horrible decisions with men as I got older due to my overwhelming self-hate and destructive behavior; my traumatic sexual experiences which have kept me emotionally stunted with men for over a decade now…I imagine all of this plays into it.

There is a power dynamic with men – maybe because I fear their emotional power over me in their ability to reject or lead me astray and in my attraction to them. Maybe because I fear my weakness in setting boundaries, in feeling guilt and shame, always feeling like I have to constantly prove my worth or they will get up and walk away. I guess for me, vulnerability is the scariest release I could provide. Allowing myself to be open, makes me feel dirty and disgusting, pathetic and unworthy.

It’s not that I don’t have these feelings around some women, especially those I have yet to develop respect for or trust in their support (i.e. all women except my therapists.) And if I am vulnerable with a woman and she judges, crosses a boundary, walks away, it hurts like a motherfucker. But it’s a different pain, a different power dynamic, a different exposure.

The good news is, DBT isn’t so much about exploring your past. It’s about dealing in the present. Of course the first module we are working on is interpersonal effectiveness, which is going to mean discussing my issues with men. But DBT is less emotional, it’s more of a skills-based practice of managing life. And maybe that in and of itself sets a boundary of safety.

My female therapist, who I will continue seeing, said that it is common for women to not want men as therapists – especially if they have had severe negative experiences with them. But she also said that for some, it’s an amazing opportunity to actually develop a healthy, trusting relationship with a man.

He seems really kind. I don’t believe he has ulterior motives or an agenda. I really believe he wants to help and he is excited to start this journey with me. The real problem is within me and my skewed perspective of him. I just hope he wears a really ugly sweater next time I see him or has something in his teeth. Could that change the power dynamic I have somehow established in my mind? It certainly couldn’t hurt.