I spent the last few days anxious but not depressed. After my last therapy session I felt that Ron didn’t like me, and it made me feel kind of frantic. I depended on him to like me. So of course I can’t sleep without the sleep med, and wake up every morning at 5 with heart pounding. Oh well. The first few days I took a lot of (for me) xanax just to cope with being at work. But today I’ve kind of calmed down thank goodness. It is very nice not to be depressed, and the anxiety is manageable again, just popping up here and there.
I figure how likely is it that he dislikes me? Not that likely. He’s doing his job the way he thinks is best, and that’s changed since I’ve been going to see him, that’s all. He’s more attentive now, but less friendly basically. Seems to be a trade-off. It’s stupid really, my being so upset. I blame it on my single life. If I was involved with someone, all my energies would be taken up by worrying about what they were thinking I’m sure. I’d still be suffering, of course, lol.
I wrote a couple of emails to Ron but didn’t send them thank goodness. I don’t need the aggravation of waiting for him to respond, which would again make me more anxious. Writing them was kind of therapeutic enough. He is going away for several weeks this summer – every long weekend he is taking the week off, starting week after next. Sigh. I just want to go every week for therapy and not worry about it. But then when I do go it worries me anyway, so what’s the difference really.
I’ve been thinking about this whole issue of whether addressing the relationship with the therapist is a waste of my time and money. This is how I see it. If by addressing it, I was really only addressing this one person and what they do, that would be a waste of my time. But if I’m trying to work out what’s him and what I bring to it, or if the way I feel about him has to do with my father and how I may have felt about him in the past, then it’s worthwhile. If addressing this teaches me how I act in general towards men, then it’s worthwhile. If Ron is genuinely being a bum, then it’s a waste of time and I will leave.
I’m scared of Ron, but then I’m scared of men if they get close. I feel Ron doesn’t like me sometimes, but then, I surely felt my father didn’t like me when he was pretending I was invisible. I tend to feel people don’t like me in general, more than others seem to. Ron is about three or four years younger than I am, so I don’t automatically see him as a father figure. But maybe that kind of dynamic is operating anyway. We were talking about my family and about my father in the last session after all. I struggled so much to talk.
At one point, I saw an image of my family shutting me up in a manhole. I am sitting at the bottom, and they are peering in at me from the top, with the light behind them. They have the lid of the manhole partially lifted, and are going to put it back in place.
It’s a scary image, the more I think about it. It’s as if I can’t breathe around my family, as if they are closing me in. Ron said it was an image of oppression. Also repression. And then one more pression which I can’t remember. Not depression. What was it?
In other news, this city is a gorgeous as she gets at the moment. All the magnolias, cherry trees, tulips and other flowering entities are in full bloom, and it’s the first warm and humid day we’ve had. I dug out my sandals and summer clothes from the crawlspace and took my first sandalled walk of the year to the grocery store.