Therapy for an Attachment Disorder

It involves singing.

She asked me to relax and let myself surrender to the music and just sing. I did. I sang a whole C major scale over a single octave, in tune, and with some wonderful tone.

It felt good.

She said, “There you are! That was you. I see you, Susan”.

Anxiety welled up in the back of my chest and the tears flowed. Being seen felt unsafe. Bad. Dangerous.

Another selfie from another trip I was on alone. I’m not even sure which country this is in.

And that was a typical singing lesson. I know it’s not actually therapy, but there are sure days it feels like it. My instructor tells me she is the cheapest therapy in town, and she’s not completely wrong. She sticks to helping me work through why singing is hard for me but there are repercussions in every other part of my life.

I have started actual therapy with a therapist as well. The therapist is a kind woman whom I have only ever met online. Working through a video call has its downsides but for someone like me who doesn’t connect well with others it’s really no biggie. I don’t have to make eye contact or manage my social anxiety because I’m at home.

(The downside is that I have three dogs who insist that a car door closing or a squirrel passing by their field of view or — goodness me — a dog walking by the house are all grounds for massive bark fests. One of them…