Who Needs a Therapist When (Pt. 8)

A couple years ago, my best friend made me practice my "I Love You"s. And I do mean "made." I wasn't allowed to leave the house without a quick "I Love You," and she would randomly just prompt me with her own, "I Love You."

It was maybe silly. After all, at the time I wasn't dating anyone seriously, and couldn't even fathom having the need to tell someone that without months of buildup. Still, I agreed. After all, she'd been my best friend for almost a decade, and if it was hard to tell her I loved her, how much harder would it be for me to tell someone I'd only known a few months?

It turns out it was Much. Much. Much harder. A scene. It's a few months down the line and I'm at my current boy-toy's house. I'm frustrated and angry and upset. We had agreed to keep things casual, but I'd driven nearly an hour to feel isolated and ignored and alone. It wasn't the first time with this dude either.

But the worst part wasn't that. The worst part was that I literally could not explain why I was upset. I do mean could not. I could say other things. I could comment on the TV show we were watching. I could tell him that I was getting out of bed and going in the other room. I could respond to his statements and excitements.

I just could not express anything related to my feelings. Just thinking about saying them made my throat tighten and I'd swallow and swallow desperately hoping to clear a path to speak. Any sound that I managed to push past the blockade was a high pitched teakettle voice, and even then double syllables were my limit.

"I just." "I just." "I just." Followed by "I think." "I think." I think." And "I want." "I want." "I want."

Unsurprisingly, dude got sick of waiting for me to make a whole sentence and he went to sleep. I sat awake for hours that night, composing words and paragraphs and whole treatises in my head that I would never speak. We broke up shortly thereafter.

So began a long tradition. I was fine in a relationship until I had a feeling that had to be expressed, and then I was completely incapable. Some of my partners were more willing to wait, and I could wheeze out a sentence or two before they would give up and consider the topic over.

And my best friend was right. The first time I tried to say "I Love You" to a partner, I was right back there. I couldn't even get past that first syllable there. Just the word "I" "I" "I" "I" "I" on infinite repeat in higher and higher registers. She wasn't around to practice with anymore and I had to simply try and try and try. Saying the words to a romantic partner still feels a bit like cutting words out of my chest, but I can say them.

Maybe that was the real reason why my current partner and I have been together so long: he isn't just easy to talk to, but he is willing to sit in the dark night and wait for me to force out words that weigh so much more than words should weigh. Over the years, I've gotten better. My voice usually only slides up an octave, and I can usually get out whole simple sentences if I have enough time to work at it and the circumstances are right.

It turns out there is a word for this. "Selective mutism" isn't just getting quiet or silent in situations, but also means this inability to speak on certain topics. For me, my trigger is emotional vulnerability. I can hold your hand. I can kiss your face. But telling you the way you make my insides turn to jelly is something superhuman.

Obviously the diagnosis doesn't solve anything. But like always, having a name for the problem makes it feel somehow smaller. When it happens, I can take a break and accept it, rather than slowly be swallowed in frustration and the feeling that I am broken. And there are things you can do to help selective mutism. Emotions are less strong in the dark, so I can sit in a dark room to make them more manageable, and not planning the words, but just saying them when I feel them strips them of that larger than life feeling. They aren't a cure all, but they make those insurmountable conversations something I can actually do.

It will probably always be easier for me to talk about my feelings in text, but I'm getting there, slowly.

Last Week's (Pt. 7)

Part 1