Alright, I've taken a power nap on the sofa and I've walked the dog, so now we'll see if I can come up with anything sensible. I may have to go back to the sofa and power nap some more, but we'll cross that bridge when we get there.
I actually power napped for a long time, so you shouldn't see it as one short burst of a nap. It was just very immediate and intense and that's why I call it a power nap. I lie down and am almost immediately sound asleep.You'd have to shoot off a cannon to wake me up and I stay asleep until I just as suddenly wake up and get up immediately as if I never slept at all.
Those first few minutes determine my mood and in that time I can become happy or sad. If I become sad, there is only one thing to do and that is to sleep some more. I am on the verge right now of being unhappy and it is not something inside of me that is making me so, but I am unhappy because of how the ergo therapy went yesterday morning.
I think it was too intense and too emotional and too dangerous and somehow I feel that I am implicated in it, although I know this isn't true, but because I am the bearer of some knowledge that the rest of the group does not bear, I feel a certain amount of responsibility.
You see, I know a very awful story about one of my co-patients that she just shared with me herself in the strictest confidence and yesterday, the therapist, who also knows the story , tried to get this patient to tell this story to the group, using me as an example of why it would be possible, because of the patient's extreme fear that she would be ostracized by the group if she told them the story.
I iterated to her how this knowledge made her not repulsive to me, but how it made me care about her more and made me respect her more. The therapist made me repeat that, so the patient would understand that very well.
Anyway, the whole thing became very emotional, and another patient walked out, and in the end the story was not told and now maybe never will be, although it should, but it should not be forced out of her. The patient who walked out had a half an hour of one to one counseling and the rest of us were fine and concerned ourselves more with the patient who didn't tell the story.
But it has left a bad aftertaste with me and I feel as though I've done something wrong. As if I'm implicated in a crime. I feel dirty and ashamed and I can't talk about it with anyone. That's why I'm writing it all down here, without going into the details of the story, because I can't.
I hope somebody out there understands my situation and gives me some feedback. I feel used, I guess, although I suppose the intentions were good.
I hope I made this an understandable story and not too confusing. It helps to write it all down.