Feelings. Man. I’ve probably said 100 times that life seemed so much easier when I could blame someone else (mommy dearest) for why I didn’t have feelings.
Yup, this is pretty much an entire post about therapy / my therapist, behind the cut. Deal with it.
So I gave Sid the link to this blog. He hasn’t read it, and suspect he may not. He prefers to get to know me through what I tell him from the couch. (I really do sit in a couch, and he sits in a chair. I don’t lay down or anything while he takes notes with a clipboard. That’s kind of the stereotype I have in my head). I didn’t want to encourage him, or discourage him. He’s a grown up, and can make his own decisions.
So, I’ve met a kindred spirit blogger who is also deep in the throes of transference. Her therapist encouraged her to start the blog, and reads it regularly. So after she blogged about wanting to hug him, he gave her a big hug. Aw!
Well, that made me a little jealous, I’m not gonna lie. And encouraged me to “voice my adult needs” and ask for a hug. (And I’m using derisive air quotes there, because I’m not sure that’s entirely true. But I digress.)
I can hear, in his voice, something he’s said to me before, “and what did you get?”
Shame. Rejection. Shame of rejection.
And I’ve just realized, whoa, if I felt that much shame and rejection, imagine how much stronger I’d feel those if I were to actually try and hit on him!
Anyway, we’ve talked about the blank screen. I don’t get to know his thoughts/feelings/etc. The only emotion he’s explicitly expressed is curiosity. And that’s always a means to an end. “I’m curious about ….” Basically prodding me to explain more about whatever the subject is.
Well, by that metric, he’s a very curious person. 😛 Regardless, I imagine he’s curious about the blog. But it also entirely makes sense why he wouldn’t read it.
I wanted to share it, because I think I’m rather fond of my “blog voice.” You may have noticed I like to try and be funny. I am often trying to diffuse an intense situation with humor.
Side note: I was incredibly proud last night when I got the best laugh from him yet. I said, “Well, not everyone can be as awesome at therapy as I am.” Was I trying to be funny? Yes. But, truthful, too. I’m an over-achiever, so of course I’m kicking ass at therapy.
Hell, even my intake form made him laugh. It asked about depression, and suicide/suicidal thoughts. “While finding out my husband is a sex addict certainly depressed me, not to the point of suicide.” (At least, I’m assuming that was the part of the form he laughed at) Funny? Check. True? Check. Funny, but in that wry sort of way that I think you have to be able to laugh about shitty things.
Anyway, the blog voice. I think I’m pretty proud of it. I tell the same stories, but with a slightly different bent. And that’s what I wanted to share. Well, I think I may share some of it in session next time. This way he gets to hear my blog voice as read by my actual voice. Not to either persuade or dissuade him from reading. But maybe it will either satisfy, or pique his curiosity. (Well, the curiosity in the first place is an assumption on my part, but still)
Oh, I also like metaphors and analogies.
So, with my first therapist, I would pretty much jump up whenever he came into the waiting room, ready to follow him into the office. (Side note: no couch, just chairs) But often he would tell me he needed a minute, to get coffee or whatever. I think eventually I got conditioned that I didn’t jump up right away, and waited for his cue.
Well, now I’m kind of amused any time Sid pops his head in dropping off the previous client, and tells me he needs a few minutes. I’ve never gotten up to try and rush in. I completely understand that he may need time and space to do his own thing first.
I’m more than happy to wait for him to put his seat back and tray table in the upright and locked position, and make sure his “bag of shit” is safely stowed in the overhead bin.