Okay, so diving into relationship trauma therapy wasn’t exactly a walk in the park. It started because, honestly, things felt stuck. Past stuff kept creeping into present relationships, making a mess of things. I realized I couldn’t just wish it away; I actually had to do something about it.
First step? Finding someone to talk to. This took time. I spent a good few evenings just searching online, reading profiles, trying to get a feel for different therapists. It felt a bit like online dating, weirdly enough. I looked for people who specifically mentioned trauma, not just general relationship counseling. Made a short list. Then I started making calls, just brief introductory chats. Asked about their approach, kinda interviewed them, you know? Found someone who seemed practical, didn’t use a ton of psychobabble. That felt right.
Getting Started: The First Few Sessions
Walking into that first session, I was pretty nervous. Sat down, fidgeted a bit. We just talked, mostly. My therapist asked a lot of questions about my history, not just romantic relationships, but family stuff too. It felt like laying out puzzle pieces, but they were all jumbled up. It wasn’t about blame, which was a relief. It was more about understanding patterns. Like, “Oh, that’s why I always react that way.”
Early on, we worked on just recognizing the feelings. Sounds simple, but man, it wasn’t. We did things like:
- Identifying triggers: What specific situations or comments set off those old, bad feelings?
- Noticing physical reactions: Where did I feel anxiety or anger in my body? Tight chest, clenched jaw, that sort of thing.
- Just sitting with the discomfort: Instead of immediately reacting or shutting down, learning to just acknowledge the feeling was there. That was tough.
The Messy Middle Part
This wasn’t a quick fix. Some weeks felt like huge breakthroughs, others felt like I was going backwards. We dug into some really uncomfortable memories. Times I felt betrayed, abandoned, or misunderstood in past relationships. It wasn’t just talking, though. My therapist gave me exercises to do.
Sometimes I had to write things down – letters I wouldn’t send, lists of fears, things like that. We also practiced different ways of communicating. Like, how to state a need without sounding demanding or accusatory. Or how to set a boundary without feeling guilty. It felt awkward practicing it in the therapy room, but doing it there made it slightly less scary to try in real life.
There were moments I felt really raw, exposed. Came out of some sessions feeling drained. But the therapist was steady, created a safe space. Didn’t push too hard, but didn’t let me just avoid the hard stuff either. It was a balance.
Seeing the Changes
Slowly, things started shifting. It wasn’t like a magic wand waved, but more like a gradual untangling. I started noticing my old patterns before I fell into them. Sometimes I could even choose a different reaction. That felt huge.
Arguments in my current relationship didn’t escalate as quickly. I could express myself more clearly, say “Hey, this situation reminds me of X, and it makes me feel Y,” instead of just shutting down or blowing up. I also got better at recognizing red flags, not just in others, but in my own behavior too.
The biggest thing? I started trusting myself more. Trusting my own feelings and judgments. The constant second-guessing started to quiet down. It didn’t erase the past, you can’t do that. But it felt like the past loosened its grip on my present. It’s still ongoing work, probably always will be to some extent, but getting that professional help was key to actually moving forward instead of just spinning my wheels.
