the basement-

when none of my feelings feel simple

This week, while I was in the basement I messaged my therapist and said I couldn’t see her anymore. I cancelled all our upcoming appointments.
I rationalized the fuck out of my decision, childcare, money, logistics, blah blah blah. But honestly I think I’m too damn fragile.
I will be going along, mostly fine, and then I drop into a place of terror and grief and panic.

I call it the Basement.

It’s like I live in this really nice house that has all sorts of lovingly decorated rooms, and it’s warm and welcoming.
I have poured so much work into this place.
But the floor is full of soft spots and trapdoors
and without much warning I fall into the basement.
And this basement is not nice.
This basement is full of spiders who whisper that I am inherently unlovable.
There are unlabeled boxes of trauma and there are terrible smells.
When I fall in the basement I can no longer hear kind words.
When I fall into the basement
I dare not look in the mirror.
It is when I am in the basement that I hurt myself.

It’s not that I don’t believe in therapy.
But other people seem to get so much more out of it.
I feel like all my therapists have just nodded along while I narrate how broken I am.
They tell me I am insightful.
And then I leave.
And the next week I come back, and I am happy or sad,
and I tell them about it.
I use metaphors and tie it to my childhood.
I talk about the basement of panic that I fall into.
I talk about my relationship with my mother.
I talk about feeling this bone deep certainty of my unworthiness
I talk about my plans and my fears.
And they nod.
And I leave.
And I am no less likely to fall into the basement.
And somehow it feels even worse.

I don’t exactly know why I am telling you this my loves and my dear ones.
I don’t want you to feel sorry for me, or give me advice, but I do want to tell the truth.
And the truth is that I have better than good days, full of sunshine and puppies
AND
The truth is that I have days where I feel like I have destroyed everything
AND
The truth is that I have so much love and joy and delight in my life.
AND
The truth is that I know I am broken beyond repair
AND
The truth is that everything will be ok.

it’s sort of like having a dream where you find something amazing
and then wake up and wonder where it is. (the other night I dreamt that someone had forgotten to give me a check for 3.2 million dollars) I do not have 3.2 million dollars.

But I’m not sure which is awake and which is the dream-
they each feel so real.
When I am in the house I look around and know that I am fine,
and when I am locked in the basement I cannot remember what okay looks like.

I love the idea of trust,
I’m just not sure how to do it.
There are times I believe with all my heart that everything is good and beautiful,
times where I feel nothing but joy and gratitude
but even when I am sipping tea in the living room, sun streaming through the windows, I know that the basement is there.
And maybe I will find another therapist.
I will keep reinforcing the floors of my house.
I will keep slowly and carefully cleaning out the basement
and I will build better staircases to get out.
And I will probably find another therapist

I am wanting to tell you the truth,
because it seems like the thing to do here.
And the truth is there are days that I am not okay.
There are days where trauma feels like a full time job.
I want to write to you only from my sunny living room
but if I am going to write to you at all,
what nonsense it would be to fabricate a always sunny, always shiny self-
I am here because the truth cost me my career, my vocation and most of my faith

And so my loves and my dear ones,
If you sometimes fall into your own basement,
I am so sorry. It is sad and it is scary.
If it helps, please know that you are not the only one with a bad basement.
Lots of us have dark places you can’t see from the street.
Lots of us worry that there are parts of us that belong down there.
Some of us worry that our whole selves belong down there.
Some of us worry that the basement is the real place and the sunlight is only a dream.

But oh my loves and my dear ones
if you are in the basement,
if you are in the dark
if you hear the whispers of shame
Let there be another voice too
Please hear this whisper as well-
You are not alone, you are not too broken to love
Love is not afraid of the dark
Love is not afraid of your brokenness
and Love loves you beyond reason into faith
Love believes in you

---

If you want to submit a question for my new monthly advice column coming on the 1st of the month, here’s the link:

If you want to sign up for my summer course- Anatomy of Faith. It will run from July - August asynchronously.

I’d also love to hear from you. What is true for you?