I’m seeing pain sitting like a see-through brick with gold edges, lodged over (through?) my lungs. Don’t ask me why, I couldn’t tell you. That’s how my mind sees it. If I don’t breathe deep, don’t laugh or cry, keep very still, it won’t hurt as much.
I have told Ron by email I’m going to give therapy two more weeks, to see if it can be fixed enough for me to continue with it.
We have exchanged two different emails, and he has replied to both, if briefly, which I appreciate.
The first one was kind of like my post of yesterday – I feel he’s not hearing me, he is critical….I ended up saying the whole thing felt like a really bad break-up.
His reply was that these feelings I’m having are the stuff we need to work through in therapy. He ‘invited’ me to explore these feelings further. Fine. It’s all about me. I can see how he got that, from the very emotional email I sent him.
I wrote another email last night at four am when I couldn’t sleep. This one was a little more logical. About how hurtful and unhelpful the last two sessions with him have been for me. About how I am thinking either his feelings about me are interfering with our sessions, or he has some personal issue going on that’s interfering. About how I know he is a better therapist than he is currently being to me, when he resorts to lecturing and telling me how it is instead of allowing exploration to happen. Where I just feel beat up afterwards.
I said the thing about trying to stay for two more sessions, though it’s hard. My impulse is to leave at once.
He replied fast to that one also. He said he has responses to what I’m saying but the issues are ‘too intricate’ and need to be dealt with in person. Plus he said he can hear how hard I’m trying. Which is OK. It’s a lot more than he’s said in a session.
So I’m kind of left with the feeling that yes, likely his feelings about me, a difficult client for sure, are influencing these disastrous sessions. He works alone, so I don’t think he has anywhere to take and work through feelings of anger, irritation, etc that come up for him with clients.
My feeling at the moment is I go in to see him and he lectures me on how to improve for half an hour. This is not therapy. This is a baloney sandwich.
I know the situation is complicated by the fact that I function in parts. They often mix in with what I’m saying, so I can come across as childish and irrational, but I’m really not.
The idea of ending therapy fills me with grief. The thought of staying is intolerable. Anytime I think of Ron I feel a stabbing pain. Yet I am somewhat obsessed – as if I must solve this problem, which I can do nothing about whatsoever. Not in the short term. I need to let it go and think of other things.
I feel full of self-hatred. As if a part of me thinks it is my fault entirely, who could care about a woman like me, who is ugly looking, who splits into parts, who talks to herself in the street when the kid is uppermost, who argues with a therapist who is trying to help her, who doesn’t have good clothes, who is depressed most of the time, who can do nothing much, who slacks off at her job, who is alone almost always, whom no one likes, who cannot get it together to cook dinner and eats peanut butter banana sandwiches instead.
All the painful things Ron said about me yesterday add to this ball of messy crapola.
I wish I was someone else.