I’m going to describe my therapy so I don’t completely lose the memory, but first, can I just say that I feel terrible? There is no reason that I know of, at least not that’s different from any other time. I wake up at night quite petrified, feeling completely alone and disconnected. This morning I got up to log into work, made some moves to clean up and dress, then followed the irresistible pull of my bed and dozed another two hours. Moving around was just too emotionally painful.
What the heck is this about? The only real change is Ron’s vacation. But I am not even missing a session. Work is slower than usual, so I will likely only go in one day this week, meaning less human contact than usual. I don’t know. I’ve more or less reconciled things with Ron, so I don’t have that stress anymore of being angry with a T.
Anyhow, the upshot is I’m doing very little. i managed to do a load of laundry, but it could be I won’t get it out of the machine and into the dryer before tomorrow. I want to, I just can’t.
I feel very alone, but seeing people doesn’t seem to help much.
I know I must build a life for myself. Worrying about therapy and group is supposed to help me with my life. If I don’t have one, it’s not very useful. It can’t be a substitute. I know this, but can’t work out how to get a life that’s worthwhile.
OK, the session. It was five days ago, so I don’t remember the details.
I started off talking about how I suddenly lose all trust in my relationship with Ron, and that it seems very extreme. I can look back afterwards and see how I exaggerated, but at the time it all seems to make sense.
Ron floats the idea that this is about acting from parts. I say I have no idea, maybe it is.
We discuss this a bit more without coming to any conclusions.
I mainly remember the part of the session which upset me. Where Ron asked the kid, Why did you never grow up?
The kid has no idea. I think it’s a weird question. We spend some time on it, Ron pointing out that I seem to be getting angry, which is true.
E. How would I know? I seem to have split when I was young because I couldn’t deal with some experiences I had.
R. Yes….But I think the kid knows why she didn’t grow up.
E. No she doesn’t. She just knows she is a kid, she likes to play, she doesn’t like to work. That’s all she knows.
Ron points out that the kid is living in an adult’s body….
E. Great. Now I’m getting really upset. And I was calm when I came in to see you today. What’s the point of this? Now it’ll take me days to pull myself back together, everything will be like it was, then I come to see you again and the same thing happens.
R. I think I’m rattling your cage a bit. You’re here because this system of parts isn’t working very well for you. But bringing those parts together again is very painful. Hopefully, I am disturbing the system a bit and it won’t go back together again, it’ll be a bit more open.
E. The kid is just…like a bug. She has feelings, but can’t think like an adult. She just reacts to things. She doesn’t plan things.
R. I think she does. She has needs…and she acts to get them met.
E. Yes, that part is true.
That’s all I can remember. We didn’t get any further really than Ron’s question, why did the kid not want to grow up. I find that just a bizarre question. I was so young when this split happened. How would that part of me know why? And is this some new way of dealing with parts that I’ve never heard of?
For some reason, this upsets me a lot.
I borrow a book from Ron on my way out, which I often do when he goes away. I like to feel I have something of his in the meantime.
Art: Lorraine Peltz