…continued from previous post
I switch the topic to a discussion of my sister.
E. She’s like that – she freezes people out. She doesn’t give anything back, when I talk to her. Nothing. And that’s supposed to be good behaviour. Nice. Oh so nice. Because she’s not the one who is angry. I hate that. So if I go to Christmas, she’ll act like we’ve just met. That’s so great.
R. What if you said that to her?
E. Well – that’s maybe too light, she’d just ignore that. I could say it like it seems like you’re freezing me out, and I don’t like it. Instead of screaming at her and calling her a bitch. I’d have to pull myself together to do that.
R. You would have to.
E. Well, maybe I’ll do that.
Then somehow the conversation goes back to the group. It’s easier for both of us to talk about that, because we both know what we’re dealing with I suppose. Then Ron again goes into the theory of the group. Now from a couple of days’ distance, I wonder what he said, I’d be interested to know. At the time it pisses me off as per usual.
R. There, there was a shift. What just happened Ellen?
E. I guess it was the kid.
R. What does the kid think?
E. (switching fast – the kid is dying to talk) Well…we have a video…it’s about a goldfish…it’s good, we were watching it.
R. How’s your relationship to your mom?
Jeez, what a therapist type question. The kid breezes over it.
E. OK. But we had the video for a long time, and we didn’t watch it. So last night….I was there in the group. I told you about your socks – I was wondering if they’re striped? Because they looked striped….
R. My socks from last night? There was a small stripe in them.
E. Yeah? But they were so wrinkled, so they looked striped. So Ron, at work? At work, there was this man, and you could just see his feet through this glass, and he had on a suit, and then, he had on these socks, and they were striped, and they were all different coloured stripes, red, white, blue…and it was funny.
I smile at Ron and he smiles back at me.
E. And last night? Last night I was at the group. And there is a lady but she yelled at me a long time ago….and there is A and we used to be friends and we went for walks but now we don’t go so it’s sad. And there is a lady who sits funny, but she’s still nice, and there is a girl who doesn’t talk. And you are there.
E. And also….you know what happened? I met my sister. But she doesn’t know I’m here…
The kid starts crying.
E. She doesn’t know me. And I have a brother, and he is a baby, and I don’t know where he went.
Crying really hard now.
R. You used to play with your sister and have fun?
R. What did you play?
E. We played ladies….having tea…and….
Crying too hard to talk. I’m hit with a wall of grief over the loss of my sister that I didn’t know was there. We grew up almost like twins and were always together as small children. This part of me can’t believe that my sister doesn’t know her and respond to her.
I switch back out to answer some comment Ron makes. Ron asks me at some point whether I knew the kid felt like this.
E. Not at all. It’s not as if I know this things and then tell you. It’s all news to me.
Then he starts talking in paragraphs again. I feel overcome with misery and tell him I can’t talk and need to leave.
R. OK. If you need to call me or email, you can do that.
E. OK, thanks.
I head out of Ron’s office extremely shaken and pause on the stairs for a few minutes to gather myself back together. Then I go to the pharmacy, and presto, I’m switched back to normal and cope very well with the interaction with the pharmacist. Like a normal adult.
I don’t really understand why I’m overwhelmed on the weekend. I suppose it’s accessing that part’s emotions, which I don’t know about. It devastates me.