I left this week's session after briefly discussing transference w/ therapist as directed by program director-slight point to be made-I'm not normally a person to do as directed simply because I'm ordered, there's always room for me to ponder and decide what's 'really the right thing'-that is a major problem, not always being able to decipher what IS right, but its a learned survival behaviour, trust no one to know more than you. Professionally this had been critical in being a minor success and retaining academic employment, shy sheep have their place but eventually got canned.
So instructed to bring up transference was humiliating when at those moments my emotional self is telling me if I could just get scooped up and run away with therapist all would be right with the world forever after. And he's tall, built like a football quarterback and my age but with even less hair than me. But when you're blind with transference passion (lolol) looks mean little, too bad I'm usually the one experiencing the transference.
Being the professional he is, as well as just a compassionate person, he actually didnt laugh, scorn or mock in any way. We talked as two adults understanding these feelings are part of a normal therapuetic process, but I left there and spent until Friday weeping like I was drowning.
I have not had sexual feelings or even a hint of caring for adult men for many years. Its surprising that this capacity even exists in me.
The study antidepressant couldnt make a dent in what I was feeling-alone, abandoned, terrified about sessions ending in a couple of months, its all going too fast. The program director told me when I was there doing paperwork that the Psych would call me, but he didnt call and I thought well they're all confabbing about my sick thoughts about therapist and are just going to let the poor guy deal with it all.
By Friday the weeping, went from crying to nonstop flood was making me physically ill. When no one called I realized late in the evening that there was actually NO ONE going to rescue me, which is what I keep looking for, in partners, teachers-any authority figure, even females. As soon as this lightbulb moment happened (okay, maybe its just a nightlight light bulb, but it meant alot at that second) the ache for my therapist lifted, the onus is on me to do the rescue work, but jeez how many time have we all discussed this issue here and in other boards and while we may get it in our heads its doesnt seem to trickle down and take effect, at least this has been my problem.
I realized-okay pay attention, this is key-that I've portrayed my father, the grief subject I'm in the study for-in a romanticized manner, I'm pining for a man who in reality was a monster, that was our nickname for him, dear mother and I when whispering in the kitchen how to get some needs funds for her out of him....how to deal with the monster. So I've spent 7 weeks describing a man who repeatedly threatened to shoot and had slashed up my mother, threated her lovers w/death, drank to drunnkness every night as the only person who actually loved me. In fact he did, but only he knows why because this attention was not shown to my sister, we were like 2 orphans thrown together, total strangers who instinctively disliked each other.
I felt as if I had cheated and lied in the study and before going back wanted just to be sure this was the right place for me to be to work on these things.
Not 15 minutes later the Psych called...now paranoid as I am, imagine how this played out in my brain. Therapist gets call from me, doesnt know yet why I've called but we delved into transference last week so he's clearing a return call with psych before calling me back...according to Psych the program director had sent him an email he had only read late friday, it was actually a coincidence, or they're both good actors...I explained to psych why I called therapist and was concerned about the entire portrayal of my father as a misunderstood lonely guy who needed my love blah blah blah, he said come in next week, lets have a round table and talk this out and decide if you are placed right to continue. He said he would contact therapist because therapist is concerned about me and would want to speak to me before next week. (i still smell rat...do you?)
Therapist called 2 hours after finishing with another patient at office. This man keeps telling me I astound him with my general insight, honesty and striving to confront the issues of this therapy, so while I was expecting to hear, you know D. I think it might be best if we review everything and see if there isnt something more suitable therapuetically.
During the time I waited for his call back I realized that to sever this therapy mid stream would be the worst possible thing-I've discussed things I've never told ANYONE and to leave the dirty laundry out there unsorted is perhaps more damaging than pushing forward. He listened to why I was calling and said I am right where I belong, exactly-I'm just pushing myself so hard and fast, faster than he would suggest that I need to be more gentle, he reminded me of what I said to him the first week-dont be so soft and kind I'm not used to this its not good for doing this kind of work. (my kids tell me I walk too fast with my cane as well, gotta get there, gotta go home-get'er done)
I apologized about the depiction of my father and said I felt almost as if I'd wasted study time or did the wrong thing....he responded with such kind words you wouldnt believe even if I wrote them here, but essentially said despite my disclaiming love, as my therapist he knows me well enough now to disagree with my assessment, indeed I loved my father and have a huge capacity to love others, its needs channeling. And no, no one is going to throw me out of the study, nothing happened, in fact its another break through.
As I write this, snowflakes are falling, covering pine boughs outside my front windows and Vladimir Horowitz is playing Chopin...if only the world could stay like this forever.
My landlord said I could bring a piano into the apartment. instead of this unexpected agreeable situation bringing me the joy it should my reaction was,how will my kids be burdened with an old piano when I'm dead?
So instructed to bring up transference was humiliating when at those moments my emotional self is telling me if I could just get scooped up and run away with therapist all would be right with the world forever after. And he's tall, built like a football quarterback and my age but with even less hair than me. But when you're blind with transference passion (lolol) looks mean little, too bad I'm usually the one experiencing the transference.
Being the professional he is, as well as just a compassionate person, he actually didnt laugh, scorn or mock in any way. We talked as two adults understanding these feelings are part of a normal therapuetic process, but I left there and spent until Friday weeping like I was drowning.
I have not had sexual feelings or even a hint of caring for adult men for many years. Its surprising that this capacity even exists in me.
The study antidepressant couldnt make a dent in what I was feeling-alone, abandoned, terrified about sessions ending in a couple of months, its all going too fast. The program director told me when I was there doing paperwork that the Psych would call me, but he didnt call and I thought well they're all confabbing about my sick thoughts about therapist and are just going to let the poor guy deal with it all.
By Friday the weeping, went from crying to nonstop flood was making me physically ill. When no one called I realized late in the evening that there was actually NO ONE going to rescue me, which is what I keep looking for, in partners, teachers-any authority figure, even females. As soon as this lightbulb moment happened (okay, maybe its just a nightlight light bulb, but it meant alot at that second) the ache for my therapist lifted, the onus is on me to do the rescue work, but jeez how many time have we all discussed this issue here and in other boards and while we may get it in our heads its doesnt seem to trickle down and take effect, at least this has been my problem.
I realized-okay pay attention, this is key-that I've portrayed my father, the grief subject I'm in the study for-in a romanticized manner, I'm pining for a man who in reality was a monster, that was our nickname for him, dear mother and I when whispering in the kitchen how to get some needs funds for her out of him....how to deal with the monster. So I've spent 7 weeks describing a man who repeatedly threatened to shoot and had slashed up my mother, threated her lovers w/death, drank to drunnkness every night as the only person who actually loved me. In fact he did, but only he knows why because this attention was not shown to my sister, we were like 2 orphans thrown together, total strangers who instinctively disliked each other.
I felt as if I had cheated and lied in the study and before going back wanted just to be sure this was the right place for me to be to work on these things.
Not 15 minutes later the Psych called...now paranoid as I am, imagine how this played out in my brain. Therapist gets call from me, doesnt know yet why I've called but we delved into transference last week so he's clearing a return call with psych before calling me back...according to Psych the program director had sent him an email he had only read late friday, it was actually a coincidence, or they're both good actors...I explained to psych why I called therapist and was concerned about the entire portrayal of my father as a misunderstood lonely guy who needed my love blah blah blah, he said come in next week, lets have a round table and talk this out and decide if you are placed right to continue. He said he would contact therapist because therapist is concerned about me and would want to speak to me before next week. (i still smell rat...do you?)
Therapist called 2 hours after finishing with another patient at office. This man keeps telling me I astound him with my general insight, honesty and striving to confront the issues of this therapy, so while I was expecting to hear, you know D. I think it might be best if we review everything and see if there isnt something more suitable therapuetically.
During the time I waited for his call back I realized that to sever this therapy mid stream would be the worst possible thing-I've discussed things I've never told ANYONE and to leave the dirty laundry out there unsorted is perhaps more damaging than pushing forward. He listened to why I was calling and said I am right where I belong, exactly-I'm just pushing myself so hard and fast, faster than he would suggest that I need to be more gentle, he reminded me of what I said to him the first week-dont be so soft and kind I'm not used to this its not good for doing this kind of work. (my kids tell me I walk too fast with my cane as well, gotta get there, gotta go home-get'er done)
I apologized about the depiction of my father and said I felt almost as if I'd wasted study time or did the wrong thing....he responded with such kind words you wouldnt believe even if I wrote them here, but essentially said despite my disclaiming love, as my therapist he knows me well enough now to disagree with my assessment, indeed I loved my father and have a huge capacity to love others, its needs channeling. And no, no one is going to throw me out of the study, nothing happened, in fact its another break through.
As I write this, snowflakes are falling, covering pine boughs outside my front windows and Vladimir Horowitz is playing Chopin...if only the world could stay like this forever.
My landlord said I could bring a piano into the apartment. instead of this unexpected agreeable situation bringing me the joy it should my reaction was,how will my kids be burdened with an old piano when I'm dead?
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