Shame and guilt

About 2 weeks ago, I started to go to therapy as per the suggestion of my psychiatrist. Though, this time I was instructed to find a therapist specialized with Asperger's. I confess I was afraid as it is still uneasy to face my reality. I feared I would be judged or worse "locked up" if I shared my truth. My reaction on my first session took me by surprise. I honestly thought as much as I wanted help, I would be better off pretending I was okay. Instead, as the therapist probe, I caught myself "crying" and admitting my ugly truth: I hate myself. I confess that I felt like a fraud, I had no idea who I was. I was exhausted of putting on a mask each day. I was not okay, I felt so frustrated with how others so quickly judged and condemned me when I was unable to hide my true self. I felt I was shamed for my odd behavior. I also shared my disappointment in my family for not being supportive as each member including my spouse looked down upon my condition: they commented I had a mental illness hence anytime my behavior seems inadequate, it was not my fault, I had a mental illness. It hurt, I disagreed with them, I was perhaps unaware and not in control always of my behavior though I didn't view nor consider myself as "handicapped mentally". I simply struggled to understand how to interact with others and how to control my own emotions though I had feelings and I knew I didn't do any of these so called "inappropriate", "odd" behaviors intentionally. In other words, I shared that part of my problem was I felt even more alone, I had no support from my "family". I already didn't feel connected to them, now I felt even more alienated. While the therapist understood and reassured me it was okay for me to want different things than most, I was overwhelmed. The truth hit me hard, I had said it: I hated myself and yes indeed I was depressed. I was even more surprised as I had not expected this simple question: "do you love yourself?"
I felt not only shame as I shared my truth, I felt guilt. After all, I had no right to complain. I wasn't living in a third world country struggling. I was lucky and really wasn't I ungrateful and narcissistic to complain about my life. The therapist's response to my concerns of being selfish if complained about not being happy, was encouraging: "so what if being happy to you means living by yourself with lots of dogs". He didn't say that I was selfish for wanting different things. I shared how since a little girl, I fantasized about living on an island with lots of books and pets but no humans as it seems to be my vision of happiness. I also shared how I knew that this view seemed to clash with society, wasn't it wrong for me to want to be alone. How could I be normal if admitted that I didn't like people and that I loved and felt more connected to my pets and animals. Wasn't it wrong? What was wrong with me? Again, I was talking about myself and wasn't I being selfish? NO, according to the therapist, other individuals like I felt the exact same way and were we not entitled to be happy too.

I can't tell you that therapy will fix me or fix anyone like I though being able to share my own truth without being judged was freeing. This first session helped me accept two things. I had to face my truth, which seems dark though I couldn't evade it any longer: I was unhappy with myself. Second, it was okay to want different things and to feel so different: I needed to accept myself.

I won't pretend that I am completely okay with these truths. I struggle with them. On one hand, I accept that I am exhausted of pretending I am okay as I constantly fake my way in life. I hide at best (I think I do), who I am as I learned early on that being myself is "odd", "weird" and "strange" hence "not acceptable" though now I must face my truth: I can't do it any longer as it took its toll on me: I feel like a fraud. I hate myself when what I need to do is learn to accept who I am. On the other hand, accepting who I am means I must accept that I am different. Am I okay with this? Not really. I always felt different though I longed to fit and now I must accept I indeed do not fit. It's difficult as while it may seem to free me as I know I am not crazy, I am indeed different, I also am struggling to know I will always feel this way: I will always feel different and not be able to connect and understand others. I may learn to decipher and accept that others don't understand me like I struggle to understand my peers but I will never truly be able to feel like others do and or be able to relate to them.