Okay, here it comes... blogger's remorse will soon be mine. It's the therapy thing. I love that man, you guys know that, still... I'm having a terrible problem. I went ahead and mailed him Wednesday night because I knew that he is supposed to be home now. I started to wonder if he had made it home okay. I knew what came next. The next thing would be worrying that he had not made it home because something bad had happened to him. I thought the logical thing would be to just check in with him so I would know that he is fine and then I would feel better and thus circumvent some of the more disruptive crazy shit that surrounds any separation from him. Fine. Done. He is safely home and okay. Too bad that's not the end of my crazy shit around this. That was only part of it. I forgot about that other part. What about dealing with the basic fact of calling him? That is where the biggest crazy shit lives. I don't think I know how to do it. Don't know if I will be able. Part of me feels like I will curl up and die if I cannot continue with him, and part of me is astounded and infuriated that I would even consider it. I think the bottom line here is... I love and need someone who hurt me, and that reminds me.
How much of this is about that old incident and how much of it is about his vacation? I don't know the answer to that. I do know that he has 'disappeared' from in here several times. Like he did not even exist anymore. Then something would remind me of him and he would seem like a total stranger to me, alien even, and that would either scare me and make me panic, or piss me off. Then... poof! He'd be gone again. Now he is back. The longing of the little girl is terrible. I cannot stand it. It hurts me and I don't know what to do. It makes me feel needy. You guys want to hear something awful? I have not spoken to the therapist in six or seven weeks or something like that. During that time, my husband has only slept in bed with me on one occasion, and it gave me nightmares. Yes, I am more efficient when the therapist is missing, but I am less of almost everything else.
Still, it all comes down to one thing -- I am afraid to talk to him. I'm afraid because I don't like to be close to anyone, because I don't want to need anyone, and because he did what he did to me that day. I guess all it takes is for him to go missing for a while for me to start worrying that he might do it again. Or that he doesn't really care about me and the whole thing is just a big lie and that I am very stupid for thinking otherwise.
The battle rages --
Little Girl - He does care. He does. He helped me when I was scared. I didn't have to be alone anymore because he cared about me. I want him back. Please give him back.
Teenage Girl - It's just his job. He doesn't really care. Not the way you think. Beside, he's just a therapist. He's faking. That's what they do. They pretend to care about people. He can't give you what you want. That ship's done sailed, honey. He's not your mother. Face it - your mother couldn't love you.
Little Girl - But he really does care about me. I know it's true. I felt it lots of times. I felt it through the body that day in his office when he said it. He said he cares very much about me and I felt the truth. He wasn't lying. He didn't mean just me, he cares about you, too.
Teenage Girl - He cares about you until you upset him. As long as you don't get really upset like I did, then he will 'care'. If something really, really horrible happened to you, and you can't stand it and you start freaking out, he might get mean.
Little Girl: He wasn't mean to me. He talked to me and he was nice to me all those times when I couldn't stop crying. He protected me from them when they came to get me. They wanted to hurt me and he sent them away and told them not to bother me. I feel better when he is around. Please give him back. I have to have him. Please!
Teenage Girl: Well, I don't have to have him. I don't want him. He didn't care for me. I couldn't stop crying because of him. I was hurt and scared and he didn't want me bothering him. He wanted to drug me and shut me up. You heard him. He would rather have seen us brain damaged by dope than care about me. He hates me. I was hurt, too, but he was mean to me because of it and he sent me away. He IS them.
Little Girl: Drops to the floor and sobs.
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((((((((((lynn)))))))))
ReplyDeleteI feel for you. Have had times when the little girl ran amuk... It wasn't pretty. I keep her in a nice little dark dungeon now.
This sounds like a very hard place to be.
ReplyDeleteI know my inner child just needs to feel loved, but she can be a real pain in the ass sometimes. It's so hard to go through life living with the ghost of an unhappy child inside of oneself.
I remember Mr T (T for twat) used to say to me about my battle within... Just let go. I never understood that. ( so why am I writing it?) But it is a battle that needs to be resolved. You know that of course. ((((Lynn))))
ReplyDeleteTo Little Girl: You are worth loving, and people DO love you. Even if something is someone's job, they may choose that job because they wanted to care about people and help them.
ReplyDeleteTo Teenage Girl: It's always easier to reject someone you might care about before they can reject you. But it is worth fighting through the fear to accept someone the way they are and learn whatever good they can teach you. Really.
[[[[[HUGS]]]]] to Lynn, and Little Girl and Teenage Girl. Hang in there, you guys.....
Hi, Amanda. Yes, it can get quite bad when something happens that creates that kind of a stir. I think that is why there are dungeons.
ReplyDeleteHi, Lily. I think there are a lot of us running around with the ghost of an unhappy child. It sucks.
Hi, K. T for twat sounds pretty damn accurate to me. He doesn't understand "Just let go," either. It is meaningless crap. When shrinks fall back on empty and useless bullshit like that, it only shows that they don't really know what the hell they are doing. He is certainly a twat. Useless and not worth his keep. Good for you for giving him the boot.
Hi, Lawyerchik. Thanks for the hugs.
From the Little Girl: I like it better when I'm not just sombody's job, but I want him to come back.
From The Teenage Girl: He rejected me first. He's a troll.
I fantasise Lynn, that I will beump into him in the street. I reckone I will look at him and mutter "Twat."
ReplyDeleteOr maybe
"wanker"
Twat or wanker - either would do the job nicely! Because he's such a twat. And a wanker!
ReplyDelete