(Dear Therapist,)

I am in a stuck place. I DON’T want you to fix it (because you are a THERAPIST and that would be a monumental disaster), I just want you to know about it. The problem is that I’m well aware that I’ve hit a brick wall. I have some idea what is on the other side of that wall. The pains that have been waking me from sleep in the absence of any signs of real health concerns and the reactions that are occurring in response to my environment are good clues. I also find it interesting that when you asked me, "Do you have any idea what was behind it all?", I latched onto your word ‘WAS’ in a desperate grab at some hope instead of answering the question. Yes, as any skilled writer can probably do, I can create an entire therapy session out of a fascination with the past tense of the verb ‘to be’. And you totally went for it! I then called that a success just on the basis that no one harmed me in response to a revelation that I did not make. I swear I should run for public office. Talk about your green shoots… Yes, I have the ability to turn the lights of an oncoming train into ‘a light at the end of the tunnel’ (CBT at its finest). The difference between me and other people is that I can usually debunk all that false bullshit these days and admit the truth in time to figure out how to get out of the path of the train.

I am left with only two choices right now that seem reasonable, and they are dissociation and alcohol. There are reasons why things that do not promote health feel reasonable to me. Those reasons have to do with the amount of faith I have in what might happen if I stop filling in the missing mortar in the aging wall that is blocking my way. The whole thing has to do with the ways that therapy mirrors the attitudes of an unfeeling society steeped in denial. This is not just about our infamous old incident, it is about your toxic and shamefully naive suggestion of DBT, it is about past therapies, invalidating friends and family members, and even the very recent fiasco with the crisis line. Keeping things buried is a special talent of mine and I’m very, very skilled at it. It’s not a problem unless I want to really live to my full potential instead of just existing in a manner that is deemed acceptable by the mental health establishment (which I loudly and openly despise). Aside from my original traumatic experiences, which are plenty horrifying, I have been truly and deeply traumatized by trusting others for support in my efforts to overcome them.

Put yourself in my shoes for a minute, won’t you? Imagine you have a situation that nibbles away at your very soul and wounds you anew with each tiny bite. Imagine finding a person who professes to be the go-to person for people with situations like yours. Then imagine displaying the problem and being further wounded for doing so. This has been the overwhelming bulk of my experiences with therapy, religion, spirituality and real self-disclosure in general. Most especially spirituality and therapies. I am trying not to lump you in with that, but there is a teenage girl scowling in my general direction when I aspire to hang on to that omission. Yes, I know… the ‘wise mind’ would say to notice her, 'let her go' and then act without taking her into tangible consideration. She is all about emotion and behavior is key. I disagree. Vehemently. Just so you know, DBT and its invalidating language have been immeasurably damaging to me, and yes, I equally hate that very fat and oppressive skank (Marsha Linehan) and the delusional construct of Buddhism. (I would file a lawsuit if I had a concrete defendant, but whom would I name - the whole fucking world?) Perhaps if I were a violent person who went about abusing my children, creating destruction and committing crimes, then behavior would probably be first on my list, but that is not my situation. As far as my behavior goes, I have never even had a speeding ticket. EVER. I wonder how many ‘normal people’ can say that. I know YOU can’t. You've told me as much. As much as I often want to, I don't speed because I don't want to risk an accident that could injure someone. Perhaps you need some form of CBT?

My situation is something else entirely. It is one of a deep inner sorrow which has no real hope of finding clear and honest expression lest I be assaulted. I can't seem to find anyone who has both the balls and the stamina to very honestly witness the weathering of torment that doesn't even belong to them without needing to abandon me in a cruel manner or assault me to protect against some perceived threat to their own (delicate?) psychological cohesion. My dilemma is that I have already been assaulted enough. Like any good ship’s captain, I know when I can’t risk being fired upon lest I go down with my ship. And just FYI - I don't find any double bind to be positive. You will never break me. You don't have that power. No one does. I have the intellectual intelligence to spot the bind, get above it and dissect it. I also have the emotional intelligence to identify such an offering as the toxin that it is and decline it in the best interest of the damaged children who reside here. This situation in itself is a double bind of sorts. Even Jenny is depressed by the situation in its entirety. She brought me the musical message at the end of this email. I worry about the alternatives with which I am left.

She smiles and raises her glass of San Michelle's very fine 1992 Merlot. "Thank you kindly, Mr. O'Sullivan. And may you be in heaven five minutes before the devil knows you're dead."

(And don't bother responding. I don't want any extra appointment. I'm in a generally foul mood and I'm a grade A asshole right now, so just leave me alone. Please just leave me alone. No offense intended.)