Yes, I Really Sent It

Dear Old Guy,

In keeping with the topic of the last appointment, in which we discussed the 'old incident' and you told me that I do not need to protect you from my feelings, I have some thoughts on the subject, which I really wish you could understand before our appointment today. (And yes, I know you dissociated/ didn't care about/ pussed out on the links I sent you.)

1. Last appointment, you told me that 'mindfulness' is about balance. There is nothing balanced about being raped and there is nothing balanced about having that distress only to be abandoned and told, "You need to be medicated if you cannot live in the present moment," AND "There is a difference between support and indulgence." You lied to me the last time we spoke. There was nothing balanced about what you did to me that day. And it sickens and enrages me that you want to rewrite history, 'reframe' things, after the fact. CBT at its finest. You can have all that bullshit all to yourself because I want nothing to do with it. Save it for your more gullible victims/ clients. These are YOUR lies and I will not own them for you.

2. I hate Buddhism, all religious dogma, therapists, and the language of any related and triggering concepts because of the indescribable damage you caused me that day. I found your Facebook page. It makes me want to puke that you have a man-crush on a dissociated Zen faker. I know you will never understand me or the rage that your betrayal and invalidation has inspired. Example - I know folks think Ghandi was a fucking saint, but I think he was an anorexic dude with hygiene problems, a low tolerance for his responsibility to support himself, and cowardice that masqueraded as 'pacifism'. Because I have no use for spin of any sort. I actually have a bit more respect for the Malcolm X type. At least he was honest. Perhaps he wouldn't have been so radical if someone had truly empathized with him instead of telling him to suck it up, get over it and move on (dissociate).

3. Sometimes the hopelessness of wanting to be understood makes me want to die. If I freak out on your ass today and toss you to the curb like so much garbage like you did to me when I was at my lowest, please google for the obit once in a while so you can mindfully acknowledge your role in it. It won't hurt. You have the dissociation of mindfulness to protect you. You can read about how that works right here (if you don't puss out again). Worry not, I fully expect that you will not be interested enough to read it because I'm just some unimportant nutjob and you have all the answers.

4. Sometimes I hate you. Not just for what you did to me, but for what I perceive you to be. I think that makes us just about even. (And fuck you for daring to judge me because I had the appropriate emotional reaction to completely fucked up shit that should NEVER be allowed to happen.)

5. Four and a half years and $27,000.00 later, thanks for tricking me into trusting you and then abandoning, re-traumatizing, totally invalidating me and leaving a weeping little child to search for the person she thought you were before you showed your true colors. Thanks for waking up the dissociation monster. I'm sure my husband and kids appreciate it, too.