On November 3rd, about a week after my visit I was gripped by some sort of miserable mania and proceeded to create a strange flow chart based on a bunch of notes I doodled during Principles of Sociology. I had all of these racing, horrid thoughts sort of like a greyhound track for the damned, that centered on my dogged (pardon the pun) feelings of unrequited need.
Basically since we’ve shifted to bi-weekly sessions I go through horrible withdrawals; crankiness, sleep disruption, tearfulness, inability to concentrate. It’s real nice…NOT! It’s separation anxiety all over again, except I’ve got to be the hugest, fat-ass baby ever. Anyway I’ve been trying to soldier through the dark side of transference with as much of my dignity intact as I can muster. I really had an epiphany that week about my needs and why I was projecting all of this stuff onto Dr.K and that I spend so much time rationalizing and trying to be “professional” that I am not tapping into the pain and the genesis of all of the dysfunction.
So I totally tapped in, I tapped that ass and hit pay dirt and I created the stupid chart of doom in an effort to clue Dr. K in and provide grist for the mill so to speak. After I created the chart my mind quieted, so I attached it to a self-deprecating email and sent it off….It never occurred to me that I was making a HUGE mistake. Here is the email;
Hello,
Just wondering if you would mind me sending you an email on my off Tuesdays? I don’t mind if it takes a while for you to respond. It just seems like I will have too much catching up to do.
If you don’t mind the last 2 posts might be good for you to read. I really don’t mind you reading the blog at all, but I understand if you don’t want to make a commitment to reading it regularly (maybe that is me trying to manipulate the way I convey info to you? I dunno)
Here is the url <https://tearsofabennu.wordpress.com>.
- I called Dr. S. and we upped the dosage to 100mgs a night and that seems to be working well so far.
- I withdrew from the College Algebra class.
- I’m doing fairly o.k with intermittent bursts of agitation and morosity…
I attached a weird flow-chart thing, for no apparent reason except for self-absorbed mania perhaps, maybe we can discuss it on Tuesday?
He let me know he got the email and that he would reply when he had time and I was capital A-O-K with it all. He replied the next the day with this;
Hello XXXXX,
Feel free to email me on your off Tuesdays, if you are OK knowing I can’t necessarily respond beyond an acknowledgment or commit to reading blogs at length (doing so would amount to unremunerated work). I hope this doesn’t feel mercenary, but I’m protecting professional boundaries. You know by now how much I value your writing, despite this limitation.
I’m glad the increased meds are helpful.
See you next week.
Dr. K.
Sooooo, who wants to hazard a guess that I tried valiantly, albeit briefly to put a positive, professional, rational spin on this email and then failed MISERABLY!!!! I fought back all of the tears and carried on as if nothing had happened after a quick pep talk and commiseration with a fellow blogger. I started not looking forward to my session (first time ever, HORRORS!) on Saturday. I spent several days just floating in a state of full-fledged grief.
Fast forward to today!!!! I realized once I walked in the conference room, I totally did not want to be there. I avoided eye contact and plopped onto the couch. “So it was a pretty miserable week.” I say with a grin/grimace. “Why was it miserable?’ he asks. His voice rubs me the wrong way, I wince. I sigh deeply. I grin/grimace again. “Well, I uh, I made this stupid um flow chart thing and I thought it was going to be useful but uh, um. Well, I uh got your email and I understand where you were coming from but it would have been better if you had probably just told me we would discuss at the next visit.” I stammer, while I alternate between grin/grimacing, blinking back tears and swallowing.
I calm down and make small talk about everything and anything. Who cares about needs? Needs Schmeeds. I have no needs. F**k Needs. Eventually we get back to the stupid flow chart of doom because I feel maligned, I have to prove that I didn’t do anything wrong by making the stupid chart, how did everything turn out like this??? “It seemed like a good idea at the time, it made sense, I thought it would help…” I began to sob again. I cannot get this thing under wraps, it keeps wriggling out and making a spectacle of itself over and over. SOB HICCOUGH SNIFFLE DAB COMPOSE REPEAT
“Did it sound like I was dismissive or uninterested?’ He is using his voice very skillfully to get me to talk. I have no interest in talking. “I understand what you were saying and it was totally reasonable, but um, it just seemed like you thought I was trying to get a freebie or something through the email and I just I needed to sort out my thoughts and I thought it would help you to understand…” My grin/grimace has turned into hiccoughs of grief, tears are flooding, coursing, flowing. My chest is beginning to heave. I gasp for air and then I just stop. I literally stop breathing. I am holding my breath like a child! I don’t ever remember doing that as child!
“There is a lot of anger there that you aren’t expressing.” Dr. K says in a soothing tone. No sh*t Sherlock. Who me angry? Why should I be angry? I don’t even care… “I just thought it would give you insight, I didn’t know I was being a weird stalker or something I just wanted to…” I am mumbling like a surly teenager. My eyebrows are touching in the middle, furrowing, pinching. Here comes the flood of grief again, hiccoughing, keening, sobbing. It is unendurable, I feel naked, exposed and dispassionately examined. I keep looking at the clock. Is the time up yet? “Why are you looking at the clock, are you concerned about the time?” he asks gently. I sniffle and dab until I am semi-composed, “I just don’t want to be a wreck when I leave.” I reply.
“Do you have to be somewhere after this, can you stay for another half an hour? he asks “Yeah I uh guess I can.” I mutter. Look, there goes the lil blue pillow, I haven’t even touched it, have you hugged your lil blue pillow today? F**k no! “I think we should continue, you seem like you are on the verge of something big, you are crying like this for a reason.” he says. “I don’t want to be on the verge of something big.” I retort. We both snort back a giggle. Better Bonding Through Sarcasm.
“I just feel so stupid, like a dumb idiot, I don’t even know why I sent that frigging email. I just wish I could stop being like this, because something is wrong with me. It doesn’t matter how much my husband and kids love me or if people say nice things. I feel like no one loves me, no one wants me, nobody cares. If people really knew me they wouldn’t like me. I feel alone and awful and unworthy. My professor wants to nominate me for a scholarship and I felt pleased for one day and then I thought I don’t deserve that, someone who works hard and takes challenging classes deserves that. I feel like nothing good will come out of anything I do….” I trail off. I say this without tears or whimpers. The words bounce painfully off of the walls of my inner hollowness. I feel ice cold and eerily calm. I have only looked at him twice this whole time. I cannot bear the sight of him.
I was so far off by this point I cannot reliably report what he said. It was something along the lines of That sounds like how you must have felt as a child, abandoned, alone, unwanted, and if that was all true it must be because something was wrong with you, you must have been bad, unlovable. Your experiences taught you that over and over and over again. You were told that by your mother and that was violently beaten into you… I can’t remember the rest, all I know is that the words lay like a hoary frost on my freezing, impenetrable walls of ambivalence. “Well you seem better now, I’m sorry this is so hard for you. I will see you next week.” he says.
Hmmmmm, can you say rupture Ladies and Gentleman?