Funny, sounds like I'm talking about a crossword puzzle. It's a puzzle alright, and I think I've lost a couple of pieces.
Let's just start off with saying it's not transference, I repeat NOT transference. I've always hated that word. It feels like it demeans the feelings that I'm having, Like they're to be brushed off and not taken seriously.
So, as I was saying I need a word to describe how I feel about L (my therapist). I certainly have a range of emotions about I feel towards her at times. From angry, to jealous, to frustrated...etc. But overall is it ok to say I love her? Although I'm gay, I think I can honestly say my love for her is not a romantic one, but maybe more of a maternal/sisterly one.
Maybe the word I need is love, but is that ok? And I don't want it watered down by someone telling me 'Oh, that's just transference talking'. Maybe it is transference, but can't it still be love? Of course it makes sense that I would have strong feelings for someone who is always supportive of me, has my best interest at heart, but does that make my feelings less legitimate?
She tells me that the relationship is real, so doesn't that mean how I feel about is her real? Maybe it's real right now, but it will change? Actually, in some way I'm hoping it changes. I'll always want to be able to feel that I love her, but I need it to become less intense. Everything she says and does cuts so deep and I experience it too intensely. That's true for both the good and the bad stuff that happens. I need the pendulum to not swing so far. I need it to be more balanced. But at the same time I don't want to lose my love for her.
I also wonder how she feels about me.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Friday, April 22, 2011
I'm All Over the Place
The session today was ok. It started off somewhat lite with me talking about how I handled some frustrating issues at work, and how my search for a new job was going. She also asked about the blog and I told her that I wrote something before coming today. She reiterated that she won't read my blog unless I want her to and I have to be very specific. She doesn't want me worrying that she's reading it without my full permission. I did want to talk about 'the hug' from last session and tell her what I wrote about earlier, but I couldn't work it up. Too embarrassing and needy I guess.
We did venture down a conversation about why I don't think it's ok for me to get 'things' or be worthy of receiving 'things'.
When I was about 15 my brother tried to kill himself. We were upstairs and he was in his bedroom trying to swallow razor blades. My sister and I were in our bedroom listening to him scream that he wanted to die. He was hysterical. My mother stayed in my bedroom with my sister and me and she kept yelling back at him to stop. She was hysterical too. It was all so weird. At one point my mother grabbed my sister and I and started yelling back at my brother that he'd better stop as he was 'scaring the girls'. And oddly enough I kept getting madder and madder at my mother. I was, and still am convinced that she wasn't really concerned that my brother was scaring us, her only concern was herself. That she couldn't handle this situation and she was using us to get to my brother. Luckily my father came home from work and ran in to stop my brother.
Did I beleive then, and do I beleive now that my mother wasn't concerned about me because I wasn't worthy of being concerned about?
It was such a wild scene, and although my brother was then sent 'away' for a couple of weeks it was never talked about, never ever. But the thing that has always struck me was my belief that my mother was using me.
When I was leaving my session today I was very conscious of 'the hug'. When she reached to open her office door I knew she wasn't going to offer one, just by the way she stood. So I passed by her and walked out to the waiting area, thinking the whole time that she forgot, I knew it, I knew she would forget. I was actually pleased because I could now be mad at her. As I reached for the door handle of the outer door she started 'hey, don't I get my hug?' Damn. Sort of. I was disappointed that I now couldn't be mad at her. And then conversly, happy that she remembered. Why did I want to be mad at her.
On the way home, while lost in post-therapy thoughts I noticed a shiny black mini-van in front of me. I guess it stuck out because it was so shiny and clean, and you don't see too many black mini-vans. Black SUV's, yes, but not mini-vans. I looked down to the license plate where I noticed the word 'HEARSE'. Then it made sense why it was black. Then all of a sudden I was thrown back to the day my dad died.
It was 5:00am on a sunny Sunday morning. I got the call the day before from the nursing home that my dad was in his final stages. We all knew this was coming, but it still catches you off guard. When I got the call I was actually getting myself and my daughter ready to go over and spend the morning with him. But that plan quickly changed. I had to find someone to watch my daughter, as M was working, and then contact all my brothers and sisters to give them the bad news. We were all by my dad's side within 2 hours of the initial call. The rest of the day was so weird. Waiting for him to die, not wanting him to die. The nursing home brought in food. We laughed, we cried. It was all so sureal.
On his 75th birthday we had created a dvd that was a montage of pictures from his life, and it was set to music. That dvd must have looped through over 1000 times that day. Sometimes it was just background noise, and then other times it brought laughter, and then other time it was tears.
My mother didn't want to let my father go. The woman from the hospice pulled me aside and said that I should try and convince my mother to talk to my dad and tell him it was ok to die. The woman felt that my dad may be trying to hang on, for my mother's sake, not wanting to hurt her. But I couldn't convince my mother, nor could my sisters.
Eventually, at about 11:00pm that night, with all 14 of us still in the room, we decided that everyone but 2 of us should go home and get some rest. I was one of the ones who begrudgingly left. It was the last time I would see him alive.
I couldn't sleep, so at 4:30am I got up, got dressed and headed back to the nursing home. I texted my brother and sister asking for their coffee orders and letting them know I would be up shortly so they could go home for a bit. In the reply back, my brother said not to rush, my dad had just died.
It was one of the worst moments of my life, I was right up the street. When I got there the doctor's hadn't even declared him 'officially' dead. I went to his bedside and just put my head on his chest and cried. I swore he was still there.
Eventually another brother came, so my brother and sister that had stayed overnight felt they could now leave, they had been up all night. So my older brother and I just sat in my dad's room. The dvd still looping through. And we continued watching, not really saying much.
After a while I told him that I was going to go out to the lobby and watch for the people from the funeral home to come. It was still early on a Sunday morning so I knew their wouldn't be any staff available yet to point them to my dad's room. For some reason I assumed that the people from the funeral home would be like the folks that normally greet you at a wake. Tall, slim, older, and well dressed, driving the traditional long limo/hearse. Instead the guys that showed up were a cross between the Blues Brothers and Secret Service agents. Their suits were ill fitted, in fact thei suits were so worn that I assumed these were the only suits they owned. But they were quiet and focused, much like secret service agents, atleast like the ones in the movies. And they were driving a black mini-van. Not a nice long, shiny, black limo. No, a freakin' mini-van.
I had just seen the wizard behind the curtain, and I wasn't happy. But at the same time I had to chuckle a bit to myself. My dad was more of a mini-van kind of guy than a limo guy anyway. He would have found the humor as well.
We did venture down a conversation about why I don't think it's ok for me to get 'things' or be worthy of receiving 'things'.
When I was about 15 my brother tried to kill himself. We were upstairs and he was in his bedroom trying to swallow razor blades. My sister and I were in our bedroom listening to him scream that he wanted to die. He was hysterical. My mother stayed in my bedroom with my sister and me and she kept yelling back at him to stop. She was hysterical too. It was all so weird. At one point my mother grabbed my sister and I and started yelling back at my brother that he'd better stop as he was 'scaring the girls'. And oddly enough I kept getting madder and madder at my mother. I was, and still am convinced that she wasn't really concerned that my brother was scaring us, her only concern was herself. That she couldn't handle this situation and she was using us to get to my brother. Luckily my father came home from work and ran in to stop my brother.
Did I beleive then, and do I beleive now that my mother wasn't concerned about me because I wasn't worthy of being concerned about?
It was such a wild scene, and although my brother was then sent 'away' for a couple of weeks it was never talked about, never ever. But the thing that has always struck me was my belief that my mother was using me.
When I was leaving my session today I was very conscious of 'the hug'. When she reached to open her office door I knew she wasn't going to offer one, just by the way she stood. So I passed by her and walked out to the waiting area, thinking the whole time that she forgot, I knew it, I knew she would forget. I was actually pleased because I could now be mad at her. As I reached for the door handle of the outer door she started 'hey, don't I get my hug?' Damn. Sort of. I was disappointed that I now couldn't be mad at her. And then conversly, happy that she remembered. Why did I want to be mad at her.
On the way home, while lost in post-therapy thoughts I noticed a shiny black mini-van in front of me. I guess it stuck out because it was so shiny and clean, and you don't see too many black mini-vans. Black SUV's, yes, but not mini-vans. I looked down to the license plate where I noticed the word 'HEARSE'. Then it made sense why it was black. Then all of a sudden I was thrown back to the day my dad died.
It was 5:00am on a sunny Sunday morning. I got the call the day before from the nursing home that my dad was in his final stages. We all knew this was coming, but it still catches you off guard. When I got the call I was actually getting myself and my daughter ready to go over and spend the morning with him. But that plan quickly changed. I had to find someone to watch my daughter, as M was working, and then contact all my brothers and sisters to give them the bad news. We were all by my dad's side within 2 hours of the initial call. The rest of the day was so weird. Waiting for him to die, not wanting him to die. The nursing home brought in food. We laughed, we cried. It was all so sureal.
On his 75th birthday we had created a dvd that was a montage of pictures from his life, and it was set to music. That dvd must have looped through over 1000 times that day. Sometimes it was just background noise, and then other times it brought laughter, and then other time it was tears.
My mother didn't want to let my father go. The woman from the hospice pulled me aside and said that I should try and convince my mother to talk to my dad and tell him it was ok to die. The woman felt that my dad may be trying to hang on, for my mother's sake, not wanting to hurt her. But I couldn't convince my mother, nor could my sisters.
Eventually, at about 11:00pm that night, with all 14 of us still in the room, we decided that everyone but 2 of us should go home and get some rest. I was one of the ones who begrudgingly left. It was the last time I would see him alive.
I couldn't sleep, so at 4:30am I got up, got dressed and headed back to the nursing home. I texted my brother and sister asking for their coffee orders and letting them know I would be up shortly so they could go home for a bit. In the reply back, my brother said not to rush, my dad had just died.
It was one of the worst moments of my life, I was right up the street. When I got there the doctor's hadn't even declared him 'officially' dead. I went to his bedside and just put my head on his chest and cried. I swore he was still there.
Eventually another brother came, so my brother and sister that had stayed overnight felt they could now leave, they had been up all night. So my older brother and I just sat in my dad's room. The dvd still looping through. And we continued watching, not really saying much.
After a while I told him that I was going to go out to the lobby and watch for the people from the funeral home to come. It was still early on a Sunday morning so I knew their wouldn't be any staff available yet to point them to my dad's room. For some reason I assumed that the people from the funeral home would be like the folks that normally greet you at a wake. Tall, slim, older, and well dressed, driving the traditional long limo/hearse. Instead the guys that showed up were a cross between the Blues Brothers and Secret Service agents. Their suits were ill fitted, in fact thei suits were so worn that I assumed these were the only suits they owned. But they were quiet and focused, much like secret service agents, atleast like the ones in the movies. And they were driving a black mini-van. Not a nice long, shiny, black limo. No, a freakin' mini-van.
I had just seen the wizard behind the curtain, and I wasn't happy. But at the same time I had to chuckle a bit to myself. My dad was more of a mini-van kind of guy than a limo guy anyway. He would have found the humor as well.
Maybe I Go Just for the Hug?
I'm not sure why I wanted to schedule a second appointment with L this week. I saw her Wednesday and I asked to see her again today. Wednesday was a good and even helpful session. We spent most of it talking about some work issues that I'm having, which is something I don't normally talk about with her, at least not in so much detail, but it was really helpful.
Oddly enough while L and I were talking about work, internally I was fighting with myself to not continue the conversation. I even said a couple of times outloud that I didn't want to talk about it anymore. Usually when I say that, it's because the topic is uncomfortable for me, but this time as uncomfortable as the topic was for me, it was really because I wanted to talk about something else and I was afraid we'd run out of time and I leave with that crappy feeling of 'I wished I would have said.....'.
Luckily my sessions run for atleast an hour and a half, sometimes more if she has the time and we're in the middle of something, so usually, if I'm willing I can cover what I need/want to. And this was one of those times.
She gave me some breathing room and allowed me, at my own somewhat slow pace to bring up the subject of hugs and the feeling of wanting to be held. She was so good and so supportive. Externally I know that I give off the vibe of not being a touchy-feely kind of person, and most assume that I'm not much of a hugger. And that is all partially true, but only partially. L wants me to know that she's safe and she thinks that it would be good for me if we hugged.
She asked me if there was someone, or some relative who's hugs I totally enjoyed. Unfortunately beside my wife and my daughter (who gives the most amazing hugs!!!!) I couldn't think of anyone. Then she asked what about my dad. It's so sad and hard to know that my dad died nearly 3 years ago and I hadn't thought about his hugs in a while. But yes, his hugs were great, as was my dad. I always knew he loved me, and now with my own child I know he had the same parent-child love for me as I do for my daughter.
So I think today the only reason I want to go is to get a hug.
Oddly enough while L and I were talking about work, internally I was fighting with myself to not continue the conversation. I even said a couple of times outloud that I didn't want to talk about it anymore. Usually when I say that, it's because the topic is uncomfortable for me, but this time as uncomfortable as the topic was for me, it was really because I wanted to talk about something else and I was afraid we'd run out of time and I leave with that crappy feeling of 'I wished I would have said.....'.
Luckily my sessions run for atleast an hour and a half, sometimes more if she has the time and we're in the middle of something, so usually, if I'm willing I can cover what I need/want to. And this was one of those times.
She gave me some breathing room and allowed me, at my own somewhat slow pace to bring up the subject of hugs and the feeling of wanting to be held. She was so good and so supportive. Externally I know that I give off the vibe of not being a touchy-feely kind of person, and most assume that I'm not much of a hugger. And that is all partially true, but only partially. L wants me to know that she's safe and she thinks that it would be good for me if we hugged.
She asked me if there was someone, or some relative who's hugs I totally enjoyed. Unfortunately beside my wife and my daughter (who gives the most amazing hugs!!!!) I couldn't think of anyone. Then she asked what about my dad. It's so sad and hard to know that my dad died nearly 3 years ago and I hadn't thought about his hugs in a while. But yes, his hugs were great, as was my dad. I always knew he loved me, and now with my own child I know he had the same parent-child love for me as I do for my daughter.
So I think today the only reason I want to go is to get a hug.
Monday, April 18, 2011
Writer's Block??
I've been trying to write about the riff that my t and I had over reading my journal. It's kind of a long story as there was a parrallel event going on as well. Unfortunately I'm having trouble writing it.....or is it that I'm having trouble telling it? Hmmmm. Not sure.
I think part of the reason I'm having trouble is that I'm having performance anxiety. Actually I'm not sure if that quite describes it. You see L did read my blog, the whole thing, and last week she kept saying that I'm a really good writer and she sees writing in my future. I definitely enjoy writing, but I don't think I have any really knack for it. Or maybe I do think I have a knack for it, but I've never thought anyone outside my own head would have thought that.
Now I find myself analyzing every word I type, which I think curbs my style....assuming I actually have a style.
So the story of L reading my blog sits unfinished. It was too much work to write. This morning I had a thought, maybe I just need to write something easier to get me started. So this is my shot at it.
I think part of the reason I'm having trouble is that I'm having performance anxiety. Actually I'm not sure if that quite describes it. You see L did read my blog, the whole thing, and last week she kept saying that I'm a really good writer and she sees writing in my future. I definitely enjoy writing, but I don't think I have any really knack for it. Or maybe I do think I have a knack for it, but I've never thought anyone outside my own head would have thought that.
Now I find myself analyzing every word I type, which I think curbs my style....assuming I actually have a style.
So the story of L reading my blog sits unfinished. It was too much work to write. This morning I had a thought, maybe I just need to write something easier to get me started. So this is my shot at it.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Freaked Out
I let my t (L) read my blog, and then it got worse from there. Had to shutdown access for a few days, not only for others but myself as well. Trust...
Friday, April 1, 2011
Do I Tell Her?
Should I tell L about this blog? And if I do, do I let her read it? Hmmm, tough questions....to be or not to be, that is the question? To make it a little easier, if I do tell her I know it would be for the sole purpose to actually have her read it, so I guess I really only have one question to ask myself.....Do I feel lucky?
Since I started this blog a few months ago I've wanted to tell her, but then I chicken out. Do I really, really want her to know exactly what I'm thinking about? Not sure. Especially because most of it is about therapy and my struggles with the therapy process. And what if I told her and she didn't want to read it, would I feel rejected? And what if she did read it, would that hinder me later on, or worse would I write in knowing and maybe wanting her to read it? Or how would I feel if she never read it again?
Man, not only do I need therapy for therapy, but I need a blog to write about my blog.
Since I started this blog a few months ago I've wanted to tell her, but then I chicken out. Do I really, really want her to know exactly what I'm thinking about? Not sure. Especially because most of it is about therapy and my struggles with the therapy process. And what if I told her and she didn't want to read it, would I feel rejected? And what if she did read it, would that hinder me later on, or worse would I write in knowing and maybe wanting her to read it? Or how would I feel if she never read it again?
Man, not only do I need therapy for therapy, but I need a blog to write about my blog.
I've Been All Over the Map This Week
It's been a week of all kinds of things, I suppose nothing major just 'life'.
I've been trying to stomach my job while I look for another one, and over the past few weeks I think I've been doing pretty good with that, but I guess that was bound to catch up with me. I have too big of an ego and way too much pride to keep swallowing all the crap at work. I'm just not a big enough person to keep doing this without it negatively impacting me.
Two days ago my partner(wife) M told me she was offered another position in her company. I know she really hates her job, actually it's more like she hates the way she's treated by her bosses. With this new position she would be working for someone she likes and respects, and the job itself would be way more rewarding than what she's doing now. But, cause there's always a downside, she'll be working nights, which is good and bad. The good is she'll be more available to our 5 year old daughter, and it's only 3 nights a week from 5:00pm - 10:30pm. But the bad is that we'll see each other less, and because she needs to leave by 4:30pm to get to work, and I don't usually get home until 6:00pm, we need to figure out who can watch our daughter for those couple hours, 3 times a week. I have to admit that I hate the fact that when my day is done at work, I'll still have to run home and manage that for 3 nights a week. I know it sounds petty and I'm probably spoiled, but that's why I'm writing it here and not telling M in person!
We signed our little girl up for kindergarten this week. I think I'm more scared than she is! It's a full day kindergarten, 5 days a week, she'll be taking the bus, it also feels like the first step of her growing up and away from us. I know I'm overreacting, but that's the kind of week it's been. Did I mention dating? And driving in cars? And 13 year-old hormones? And smoking in the girls room? And yelling at us that we're ruining her life??
I did meet with L this week. We normally meet on Wednesday mornings but I had a conflict so we met on Tuesday instead. It was hard. When I got there I really wasn't sure where I was at. I was somewhere between leaving and staying. I was struggling to trust her and in order for me to talk I needed to trust her, so I was caught. My session (or is it 'our' session?) usually goes for 90 minutes, and I'm pretty sure that for 80 of those minutes I didn't talk. She was trying to throw out different topics, but I only wanted to talk about what I texted her last week, which was that I felt she was working with me differently.
I can't remember the sequence of things after that. But I think I told her that I felt like she was pushing me away. She did ask me if I was mad/angry/upset at her for not having anytime for me on Friday. I'm pretty sure I lied and told her it didn't bother me. Then finally she said she wasn't sure if she should tell me this, and she didn't want to burden me with it, but she had some big family emergency-thing last week and she was probably a bit distracted by that, which may account for me feeling like she wasn't 'present'. It felt a little weird for her to tell me that, and then I felt honored (maybe even special, not sure if that's ok for me to feel) and I guess a little relieved as well, and maybe at some point a little more connected to her.
She didn't just want to explore my feelings about it, and maybe we should still do that a bit more, but she was also acknowledging that it's not just my stuff that comes into play, it's her stuff as well. I like to think that although the relationship is contrived/boundaried does that mean it's less real? In so many ways this relationship means more to me than most others, if not all others. Maybe that's too much?
I think I just managed to spin myself again.....damn.
I've been trying to stomach my job while I look for another one, and over the past few weeks I think I've been doing pretty good with that, but I guess that was bound to catch up with me. I have too big of an ego and way too much pride to keep swallowing all the crap at work. I'm just not a big enough person to keep doing this without it negatively impacting me.
Two days ago my partner(wife) M told me she was offered another position in her company. I know she really hates her job, actually it's more like she hates the way she's treated by her bosses. With this new position she would be working for someone she likes and respects, and the job itself would be way more rewarding than what she's doing now. But, cause there's always a downside, she'll be working nights, which is good and bad. The good is she'll be more available to our 5 year old daughter, and it's only 3 nights a week from 5:00pm - 10:30pm. But the bad is that we'll see each other less, and because she needs to leave by 4:30pm to get to work, and I don't usually get home until 6:00pm, we need to figure out who can watch our daughter for those couple hours, 3 times a week. I have to admit that I hate the fact that when my day is done at work, I'll still have to run home and manage that for 3 nights a week. I know it sounds petty and I'm probably spoiled, but that's why I'm writing it here and not telling M in person!
We signed our little girl up for kindergarten this week. I think I'm more scared than she is! It's a full day kindergarten, 5 days a week, she'll be taking the bus, it also feels like the first step of her growing up and away from us. I know I'm overreacting, but that's the kind of week it's been. Did I mention dating? And driving in cars? And 13 year-old hormones? And smoking in the girls room? And yelling at us that we're ruining her life??
I did meet with L this week. We normally meet on Wednesday mornings but I had a conflict so we met on Tuesday instead. It was hard. When I got there I really wasn't sure where I was at. I was somewhere between leaving and staying. I was struggling to trust her and in order for me to talk I needed to trust her, so I was caught. My session (or is it 'our' session?) usually goes for 90 minutes, and I'm pretty sure that for 80 of those minutes I didn't talk. She was trying to throw out different topics, but I only wanted to talk about what I texted her last week, which was that I felt she was working with me differently.
I can't remember the sequence of things after that. But I think I told her that I felt like she was pushing me away. She did ask me if I was mad/angry/upset at her for not having anytime for me on Friday. I'm pretty sure I lied and told her it didn't bother me. Then finally she said she wasn't sure if she should tell me this, and she didn't want to burden me with it, but she had some big family emergency-thing last week and she was probably a bit distracted by that, which may account for me feeling like she wasn't 'present'. It felt a little weird for her to tell me that, and then I felt honored (maybe even special, not sure if that's ok for me to feel) and I guess a little relieved as well, and maybe at some point a little more connected to her.
She didn't just want to explore my feelings about it, and maybe we should still do that a bit more, but she was also acknowledging that it's not just my stuff that comes into play, it's her stuff as well. I like to think that although the relationship is contrived/boundaried does that mean it's less real? In so many ways this relationship means more to me than most others, if not all others. Maybe that's too much?
I think I just managed to spin myself again.....damn.
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