Good Therapy

An excerpt from one of the emails from New Guy on Saturday when I was deep in the shit of relational trauma and wanting to quit therapy:

"No Lynn. I can’t let you do this. Not a good idea. I care about you and love you too much to let you just pull yourself out of therapy so abruptly. You’re not doing this. I say this because I care about you. You must be in a lot of pain right now..."

No? He can't LET me, eh? Coming from ANYONE other than New Guy, this would have brought Rambo out fighting. You think you can tell us what to do? You can't tell us jack. But Rambo likes New Guy. Rambo is the one who chose him. He went shopping for a new therapist when I couldn't and then he brought me to him. And I trust New Guy. He is a good therapist and has proven that he can be trusted. And he seems like a nice person, too. And have I ever mentioned that he keeps a picture of his wife in his office and she has a kind face? What is not to love about a man who keeps a picture of his wife in his office?

And from the phone conversation on Saturday I learned the true motivation behind his use of the phrase 'high maintenance'. He was simply repeating back to me the term I had just used and trying to convey a 'so what?' kind of attitude about it. As in - so I have problems and need things right now. That does not make me a bad person.

Then last night... Well, I will just paste part of the comment I left for another blogger:

"...Last night on the way to therapy, I got horribly triggered by the weather. I showed up stuck in that awful nether-region between a terrorized hell and a dissociative trance. I remember my therapist asked me: “Lynn, do you know where you are?” Yeah, it was that bad. Instead of 'coping' I ended up eventually able to tell what had set me off, how it is similar to other things that have set me off, how I know those triggers ‘go together’ and come from the same events, and how I can’t remember for certain what those events might be and have only a vague and foggy idea from the blasted out ruins of the memories of my childhood. And I was able to share my frustration and upset with all of this. I was able to put something together in order to get some relief without having to get rid of my self, my feelings or my thoughts to be able to do it. But only because my therapist was holding my hand the whole time and periodically reminding me that I am safe now. It would have been too terrifying otherwise. I was a lot better off when I left than when I arrived. And I didn’t have to ‘forget’ the session to make it happen..."

I spent the rest of the evening on the couch at home with lingering nausea afterward, but I still did not and have not dissociated any of this stuff away. AND I was still able to eat and take care of myself. It is safe to remember these recent events and still have hope for some things that I want to accomplish with the rest of this week.

I think Rambo is very smart, has good taste and knows a lot about what is good for me.