The End of Therapy

This is it. No more therapy. No more blogging about what I think about him or what I’ve said or what he’s said. No more super early mornings, getting to work late, being secretive about where I’ve been.

No more amazing great big realizations. No more having a safe space three times a week just for me where I could be what I wanted to be and please no one. Although I think I did want to impress my therapist but still.

No more support, no more analysis, no more someone wholeheartedly listening to just me. It is over.

I cried. The whole session. I didn’t wanna make lots of noises so I kept making jerky movements trying to suppress the bursts of cry. It was so sad. I am sad.

I said I felt like a failure because I kept talking about my housemates, work, my relationship, people at work, people in my life, blah blah blah, instead of getting down to it and talking about the abuse and the rape and the domestic violence and the bullying; issues that I REALLY would have wanted to sort out.

He said it takes time. I guess he meant takes time to build up trust to that level where you can disclose, but I then started feeling cheated. I had been offered 18 months and so if they knew an average psychotherapy program lasts years, why offer me so little when they’d know a regular person will take a year to start trusting their therapist????

I am glad I went though. I am glad I finally trusted and liked a man on a non-sexual level in a very close relationship; I mean that I’d tell him a lot about myself, but then wouldn’t sexualize the relationship, so that’s new.

It wasn’t an ordinary relationship though. It was an ambivalent therapist-patient relationship where I lay down on a couch and he sat behind me, so it felt like I was all alone but still watched. Very bizarre, but I got used to it. At first it was hard for sure!

I never really did trust him. I think I hid things because I didn’t want him to judge, and I wanted to impress him, and I think maybe sometimes I said things I thought he wanted to hear.

We had a disagreement once over the topic of child sexuality and I was so shocked and disgusted I refused to talk and we never went back to that topic.

I hardly remember everything we talked about….It is also bizarre how every day I’d walk out that door and forget what we talked about! Or, rather, what I had said.

I feel like a cigarette soooooo bad. I quit smoking about a month ago after realizing that I’d smoked almost for 15 years on and off, and that it had to end. I’m now so distressed and upset and lonely and sad and … confused. I want something to calm me. A tub of Ben&Jerry’s didn’t help. I’m meant to work but I can’t, I keep thinking about my huge loss and the enormity of the situation.

It will be an eternity. I will never ever speak with him again. I hate eternity. The concept gives me panic attacks and serious feelings of not being able to breathe.

I have lost so much in my life and now I have yet another loss to deal with and it fucking hurts so fucking bad I want to scream. But instead, I’ll just…calm down like nice girls do and work as that’s what I must do and I always do what’s expected of me.

x

 

 

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5 thoughts on “The End of Therapy

  1. *hugs* Lending you strength. xx Just try to remember, you don’t NEED to have a therapist in the room to progress. It’s all in you. I’ll listen fro here anytime.

    You really did do some great work with your therapist. The fact that you learned to trust a man, alone….that’s a pretty big accomplishment don’t you think? You kind of are dealing with the mistrust you learned from the past already.

    I have to note, I found it interesting to hear that you lay on the couch and he sat behind you. You couldn’t see him while you were in sessions? That must have been an interesting experience.

    Hold tight. You’re okay on your own. You made it this far, right?

    • Awww thank you honey! Thank you for being there for me, I really need these encouraging comments to keep going on…

      I did learn a lot! I think he was gay but still to trust a man…was huge. I did trust him in the end and it was even a surprise for me to admit that to myself.

      Yeah it was called psychoanalytic psychotherapy and when I started he explained that I’d be lying down and yes, his chair was positioned behind me. I have done some research and it seems that it is so patient-centered that the therapist is almost invisible to the extent that really it is about you. I often felt very alone in there too even though he was in the room, but like I said, he didn’t ask questions much at all so it was up to me how I wanted to spend that time….

      It was an interesting experience and I do think that if I could find something like that again I would go for it. If it wasn’t too expensive! I liked that it reaaaaaally stirred up feelings in me; the interaction was so delicate and fine that I found myself being very emotional over little matters and got in touch with a lot of emotions and feelings and thoughts that were previously unknown to me.

      I am happy I went through it, and I guess the sadness signals that it meant something to me, and that’s what’s important. Much love!

      • Yes it is hard but…I will always carry the memory of this experience around and try to cherish it – at least I had a chance to experience that safe space and I did feel he cared about me and that makes me feel good inside. It was his job, yes, but I could see it in his eyes that he had compassion, when he took the card I gave him and said bye.

        Thank you so much for your support it is so invaluable to me. You don’t even know me yet you go out of your way to make me feel better, you’re a very good human being and I just wish more people were like you! Take very good care of yourself!

      • That’s lovely to say…thank you. A lot of what you write reminds me of me. I empathize without even meaning to. You’re a good person too. That’s why I like you…

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