I feel incredibly awful. I have to go into work and I don’t know how I’m going to cope with it. And I left my phone there, and don’t have a landline, so I can’t phone in sick, I need my phone. Maybe I’ll say I have a headache and need to leave at lunch.
Yesterday I went in to work two hours late, saying I had a headache and needed to lie down. It was an OK day. A part of me was so relieved I stayed home a few hours to feel better.
I went to therapy on Tuesday this week. The appointment was for 9:30, the only time Ron had available. Not ideal for me, as I’m depressed in the mornings. Ron was very pale and serious. I wondered if he was reacting to me or if something major was going on in his personal life.
I had been feeling really down because of the dentist flashbacks, and had had a very tough Monday at work because of how I was feeling. So I kind of wanted help with that, but didn’t know how to start.
Ron asked me about my week. I told him a bit about my weekend. Then about the dentist and the flashbacks. It was odd, because I didn’t really feel like talking, so we just sat a fair amount. At one point I said well, I’m paying for your time, I should talk.
Ron said in response to some of what I said, that I was able to tell the bare bones of my week, and that it was important, but didn’t seem to want to go further than that. That was true, because it seemed unimportant.
Ron was much more detached than usual. I stayed adult also – I didn’t want a repeat of turning into a four year old. We just had this adult type conversation. Which was fine.
I did tell Ron I pictured him there when the dentist flashbacks were happening. He said what was I doing. I said he was just sitting there, a soothing presence.
I also read him an ‘inner child’ type dialogue I’d written out at work, when I was trying to feel better. I read really fast and quietly. I didn’t want to start reliving the emotions of it all. Ron said it was powerful, with the two voices, one upset and one trying to listen and understand, and that I was doing a good job of talking to that inner part. And that I seemed detached from it, kind of dismissing it. I said yeah, I didn’t want to get into it really.
Oh yeah, and then we talked about how most of my friends are kind of low functioning – they can’t work, they never read anything…but I feel comfortable with them. That people who are smarter scare me. I had a friend who had a PhD from Princeton in philosophy, and she tended to make me feel bad, for various reasons, so I ended the friendship. And I used to be scared of Ron, and he’s smart.
I did end up talking in fits and starts, and towards the end of the session started feeling that tingling that means a flashback. I ended up in a memory, as usual not remembering the main thing that happened. This time I seemed a little older than in the memories I had before. Six maybe. My father had taken my sister and me to some fishponds he had at the time. I remember the feel of the rough wild grass, that the earth was clumpy and hard. I remembered my father holding me down, and myself struggling to get up. He seemed angry.
Then in Ron’s office, I started crying and kind of howling. And saying I was sorry over and over.
I didn’t remember any more than that. It was the end of the session, so I just kind of stumbled out of the office, Ron pressing my coat into my hands, because I didn’t remember to take it. He said I could call or email him as I went out the door. Nice of him.
Ron’s office is in a medical building, and as I went into the corridor, there was a paramedic standing in the hall who just stared at me. The offices are old and not soundproof – probably everyone around heard me.
I went down the stairs just to the right of his office. I stopped in the landing, looking out the window and trying to pull myself together. Then I heard footsteps running down the stairs above me. I was pretty sure it was Ron – he seems to have a habit of tearing down the stairs between sessions. So I kind of ran down the rest of the stairs, because I didn’t want to bump into him.
A mystery – where does Ron go between his sessions? None of my business, but it is intriguing. The men’s washroom is on his floor I believe, so it’s not that. Does he have a friend who works there whom he wants to talk to? Maybe his wife works in the building? Hmm…I want to know.
I don’t know what the memory was about. Maybe I was spanked severely? Part of it was me apologizing over and over, the way a petrified kid might. If only I could say I was sorry enough, it would stop, I guess I thought.
Now I feel incredibly bad. I don’t know what happened to me, just that it was bad. How to cope with this? Was it a traumatic type memory like the others? I suppose if it comes back like that, so that I relive it, it must be. I don’t know.
The other thing that was interesting was how Ron was. He was different. Not getting swept along the way he sometimes does. He paid attention the whole time, but very very serious. I feel like it’s more of a normal relationship again. Not sure why, but I feel less attached somehow. I think this is good actually.
Well, I’m going to be late for work. But I feel a little better having described this. I may be too tired after work to write, so it’s good I wrote this. It’s a little jumbled, but who cares. I can write better, but this is OK for now.