I’ve been feeling a bit removed from things and blank the last few days. I know there are things underneath, but I either can’t get at them or don’t want to. Hard to tell. Meantime, a lot goes undone – dishes are waiting, meals scraped together, while I spend a lot of time staring out the window. Work is light this week, though I did pop in this morning. I feel like I’d be OK at work, just I can’t motivate myself to focus and do anything on my own. My sad balcony remains unplanted.
I haven’t wanted to describe the last part of my session. This is the reason for the past days’ blankness….if I don’t talk about it, it won’t be true. It wasn’t gruesome or anything, just – unsettling. Another proof that I have parts, they know things I don’t, and I don’t know what they’re going to say. I never want this to be true, but it is.
With twenty minutes left, I finally say to Ron – I wrote you this email. How I felt after last session – incredibly lonely. And I thought it might be coming from parts.
R. Would now be a good time to hear from parts? Is anyone saying something now?
E. I don’t know. Not really. It’s different to call them up on purpose like this….In group, when the kid was talking, it embarrassed me a lot.
R. Did anyone indicate in any way that it was not OK for her to speak?
E. Well….E. She said when I asked why no one would answer R about what happened that week he was away, she didn’t answer because she was afraid I’d get back into it.
This was the only negative comment I’ve had about the kid though. Ron doesn’t say anything to this.
I let the kid speak. First she talks about a picture in Ron’s office she likes, then his palm tree – it has brown leaves at the bottom.
E. I like to talk. My mom doesn’t want me to talk, but I like to talk.
R. Does that make you mad at your mom?
The kid doesn’t want to answer this.
E. So I went to the group. There is a lady….and she has shoes with gold sequins sometimes – they’re pretty. And….there is a man, and he is angry with me, and when I tried to talk to him, he got even more mad.
R. Do you know the man’s name?
E. It’s A. And I don’t like it when men are angry with me. And I don’t like it when they yell at me, I don’t like that.
R. Who else used to get mad at you?
E. My dad. He’d get mad. He’d yell. And stuff.
The kid and Ron talk a bit more, with the kid crying.
I switch out.
E. Now I just want to kill myself. I’m going to let that dark voice speak.
E. I want to die. Because…because….I don’t like it when people tell me what to do.
R. That’s good. Who tells you what to do?
E. Teachers. And there are projects…and they tell me what to do, and I don’t like that.
So now this part talks about school, how difficult it is, and how some kids bully her. She cries a lot.
I’m totally surprised. I wasn’t thinking about school days at all, let alone grade school. What the heck?
Ron is very kind. He talks to the part just as if she is really a child who is very upset and coming to tell him her problems. I would never actually have told anyone anything when I was in grades seven – eight, I don’t think. I never cried. I didn’t know I was this upset about school. I was good academically at school, so wasn’t shamed in that way as many are, but socially, I was a misfit. Though in those grades I still had my best friend, whom I was to lose in high school.
R. So what happens when people don’t like you?
E. crying. Well, they don’t talk to me, and they say bad things about me….It’s my fault because I don’t do things right.
R. It’s not your fault. Sometimes people are just mean.
I switch out. I don’t want to be more overwhelmed – I have to get home.
E. OK, that’s enough.
I sit and try to pull myself together. This has been like getting hit over the head with my past, wham, totally unexpected. Ron starts talking, asking me something, and I tell him I can’t talk.
R. OK, you don’t have to talk. I think that dark voice has spoken more than she ever did before, and I think she’s linked pretty closely to the kid part of you.
We say goodbye and I head home. I don’t feel too bad, just like something has just happened to me but I don’t know quite what it was. And I’ve been feeling kind of blank ever since.
I suppose the group is bringing up memories from school – troubles fitting in, worries about who likes me. It makes sense.
Ron had offered me an extra session for this week, I supposed because he thought I’d be horribly upset by A’s anger. That hasn’t happened – I seem OK with it. Just it’s reminded me a bit of other men being angry with me. I like that A can’t actually do much to me – he won’t be throwing things, or talking behind my back, or freezing me out, or even yelling for a long time. The structure of the group makes it safe.
I decide I should save extra session for when I’m feeling completely terrible, so I don’t take it. I don’t like the extra expense, for one thing, and for another, it can stir up more stuff, and I still have to cope with a week of work.
It probably doesn’t sound like much, these parts, but to me, it’s extremely disorienting. I feel like a bit of a freak actually. Other people remember childhood experiences, but it seems I relieve them, complete with turning into an actual child. Children. Trying to accept this as who I am, but I also just wish it wasn’t so.