[Private journal entry written on Thursday, May 12, 2011 about a conversation between my therapist and me – continued from previous post]

——————-

Edward: Of course! That makes perfect sense to me!

(His response left me wondering if “of course!” meant wanting that was normal or if it meant it would be okay for me to initiate contact in that way. So, I tentatively asked . . . )

Me: Would it be okay for me to do something like that – to initiate contact in that way?

Edward: Yes! That would be fine!

Photo by Martin Chen

(For a moment, I couldn’t respond because I was so astonished I had gotten brave enough to ask the question, and I was astonished he actually said “yes”.)

Me: Thank you for letting me know that would be okay . . . that is a big deal – knowing I have that option – if I ever got brave enough to actually do it . . . it is good to know it would be okay.

(After catching my breath) My fear is that you would think I was coming on to you sexually. (becoming emotional again) It is one of my greatest fears . . . that someone I really care about pulls away from me because he thinks I’m coming on to him sexually – it has happened over and over and I’m afraid it’s going to happen here.

Edward: I do know – I am very clear that the type of touch you desire is not sexual. I’m clear that you desire – and need – safe, affectionate touch.

Me: (Becoming very emotional) I would be horrified if you ever thought I was coming on to you sexually . . . .

(He nodded his head but didn’t say anything . . . he looked like he was waiting for me to finish the thought – probably because I was looking to him to verify that he knew for sure I wouldn’t do that, but he hadn’t provided that assurance yet . . . )

Me: (Finally, after more tears) Do you know that I would NEVER come on to you sexually?

Edward: Yes, Marie, I do know that.

Me: (After a pause to let emotions die down) Knowing I have that option is huge for me – I have always dreamed about having the option of initiating that kind of safe physical contact with a man, but I’ve never had that option. I thought I would never have that option. But, now, I do. (small laugh) I feel like I’ve won the lottery!

(I wiped tears and we both looked at the other to see what would come next in our conversation.)

Me: So, what now?

Edward: I don’t have anything in particular planned. What is foremost on your mind?

Me: Well, I can’t say that it is foremost on my mind, but I think it might be useful to go back and review the letter I wrote to Mark . . . specifically the parts that mirror my relationship with my dad . . .

Edward: Okay! Let me pull my copy from my filing cabinet . . .

(He stood up and got his copy from the filing cabinet and I pulled my copy out from my bag. I started reading through some of the stuff but found I was pretty ambivalent about it. It wasn’t a matter of being disconnected from my emotions, I just wasn’t getting triggered by reading the letter and remembering the conflict. After a few minutes of reading and answering some questions from Edward, I kind of shrugged and said . . . )

Me: I don’t know that spending our time reading this letter is particularly helpful because nothing is coming up for me . . . it feels like a waste of time . . .

(With frustration in my voice) I don’t know why I’m wasting time on this . . . I don’t know why I even wanted to look at it.

Edward: Do I hear you saying you are feeling ambivalent about what was happening when you wrote that letter?

Me: Yeah . . .

Edward: Are you okay with experiencing that ambivalence?

————————–

I didn’t really respond . . . I could see his point . . . giving myself space to experience the ambivalence could allow me to recognize that healing has occurred . . . but it still felt like I had wasted time and that bothered me. I believed I should have somehow recognized that I didn’t need to spend session time on it before I wasted that time.

I could see I was falling back into my perfectionist mode . . . the mode in which my need to always be productive takes center stage. I know that isn’t healthy, but I was struggling to not go there.

So, I didn’t respond, I fell silent and let the conversation die out . . .

That brought us to the end of the session. As I prepared to leave, I asked Edward for a hug. I found I was feeling okay with hugging him today . . . I guess purposefully choosing to not hug him last time was enough to establish the internal sense of control I needed.

I left the session today feeling like some of my biggest concerns about my therapy had been addressed and I am in control of what happens next in the process. That feels good.

[Private journal entry written on Thursday, May 12, 2011 about a conversation between my therapist and me – continued from previous post]

——————-

Me: I think I’d be more comfortable with the idea of that if I knew ahead of time what it would look like. I would like to talk about it now so I will know what to expect if we ever do use it in a future exercise – then we could just jump right into it without having to stop and have this discussion first – we can get this discussion out of the way, now.

So, can you tell me what that would look like?

(I could feel myself starting to tense up and my breathing started getting fast and shallow – I tried to act like I wasn’t being affected by the conversation.)

Photo by Martin Chen

Edward: Sure!

In the racquet and pillow exercise, I was thinking I could sit behind you and silently support you by just being there . . . or I could also say supportive words, if that would be helpful to you.

(As he was answering my question, I started hyperventilating a bit because I could imagine him walking towards me to move into a spot behind me, but then sitting down closer than felt comfortable . . . I started experiencing the paralysis and fear that comes with being unable to speak up and to protect myself. He continued . . . )

Edward: I would make sure to stay far enough away from you that you didn’t feel crowded, but close enough that you felt supported . . .

(With that, I felt a wave of relief . . . a sense that he would be careful about making sure I felt safe. But the wave was short-lived. A new wave of fear washed over me as he said . . . )

Edward: I would also be willing to put my hand on your back or your shoulder so you could experience my support through physical contact, if that would be helpful to you.

(The idea of him being close enough to touch me, and the idea of him actually touching me in that scenario put my fear over the top and I started hyperventilating and sobbing . . . he stopped talking and watched me with concern in his eyes . . . in between sobs, I explained what was happening . . . )

Me: That’s what is freaking me out . . . the touch part. I don’t know if I could handle having you that close, and I don’t know if I could handle you touching me during an exercise.

Edward: Marie, I wouldn’t touch you or even get close to you without asking first . . . ever . . . never, ever.

I would ask you first where and how close you would like for me to sit, and I would ask you if you would like to be touched and, if so, I would ask for very specific direction on how you would like to be touched.

I know you feel safer if we talk about that first. I promise I won’t touch you without your express permission.

————————–

That was all the assurance I needed and I immediately started relaxing.

I know he is trustworthy . . . I just wasn’t sure that he clearly understood how important it is to me that he ask permission to get close to me and/or to touch me. I wasn’t sure if he thought he could slack off a bit in that area because we have been working together for a significant amount of time now. I just needed assurance from him that he understood physical closeness and touch is still a scary issue to me and that he needs to be as careful as he has ever been. He gave me that assurance.

After a few minutes of sitting quietly, wiping the tears and snot from my face, I found myself feeling that I would be comfortable if he did sit behind me in that way, and that I would probably be comfortable with him putting his hand on my back or shoulder – after I granted him permission to do so, of course. That option started feeling very do-able to me.

————————–

Me: I know you wouldn’t do anything harmful to me. I know you wouldn’t do anything against my will – logically I know.

Edward: Yes, but your body doesn’t know that. And, having to deal with a body memory could be distracting while you are trying to focus on expressing anger.

I absolutely understand why you would want to talk about it now and why, even after talking about it now, you still might not want to be touched then.

Me: But, I do want to be touched in that way. I crave it. In fact, sometimes I find myself wanting to sit on the floor next to your chair and rest my head on your knee – or, if you are sitting on the floor, I find myself wanting to curl up in the fetal position next to you with my head lying next to your knee like a little girl might do.

(I had been wanting to ask if doing that would be okay but I had been to afraid to ask directly – so, with this last comment, I was testing the waters with Edward.)

[Continued in the next post . . . ]

[Private journal entry written on Thursday, May 12, 2011 about a conversation between my therapist and me – continued from previous post]

————————–

Me: On a different topic . . . we had a family get together last week for Mother’s Day . . . and because my sister was in town from the west coast. My sister and I had some time together, just the two of us, when I picked her up at the airport. We stopped for dinner on the way between the airport and my mom’s house. So, that was nice to have some “sister time” with her.

It seems that she is really trying to have quality conversations with me. I would like for that to happen . . . I just don’t trust that she can handle hearing what is really going on with me, so I limit what I share with her – for example, she knows I’m in therapy . .

And a few years ago, I mentioned once to her that I believe I was molested – I mentioned it to her when the memories first started coming up and I was trying to make sense of them. I was hoping she could validate – or invalidate – some of the memories because she is 16 years older than me and would remember more from that time period.

When I brought it up, she didn’t say anything that would discourage dialogue about it, but she didn’t really seem to believe me, either . . . I have always felt that she thinks my memories are false. I have never talked to her about it again.

But, anyway . . . my brother and his wife were also at the family gathering this week . . . as always, my brother showed no interest in anything I have to say. I have to fight to get a word into the conversation, and when I do, he fidgets and yawns and rubs his eyes like he can’t wait for me to shut up.

I have given up on ever gaining his attention . . . I’m done fighting for it. He is simply someone I am related to that I don’t mind hanging out with during family events. But, I’m no longer willing to put effort into having a strong relationship with him. It hurts to not have a relationship with him, but it hurts more to keep hoping for one and for my hopes to be dashed over and over.

Photo by Martin Chen

Edward: (Putting his hand on his heart) Ouch!

Me: (After a pause) So . . . anyway . . . there is something I want to ask you . . .

Many sessions ago, you mentioned to me that when a child has a need that is not being met, the child first gets sad. If the need is still not met, the child then becomes angry. If the need is still not met, the child then falls into despair.

Edward: Yes, that is true . . .

Me: I also remember you saying that, if the child is not allowed to express sadness and/or anger – maybe he is punished for crying or showing emotion – he bypasses the sadness and anger and goes right to despair. You speculated that is what happened with me as a child . . . that I was punished for expressing sadness or anger – I was not allowed to express those emotions – and therefore I began a pattern of bypassing sadness and anger and directly falling into despair.

Edward: Yes, that sounds accurate to me . . .

Me: While I was sitting on the floor last session, I realized that maybe I’m still doing that . . . still bypassing and going directly to despair because when I start to feel sad or angry, I immediately am overwhelmed with the feeling of hopelessness. I’ve seen this happen several times in sessions. So, I was wondering if you had encouraged me to express anger by beating the pillow with the racquet as a way to learn how to own and express my anger instead of bypassing it.

Edward: Well, that is one great way to explain the purpose of the exercise . . .

Me: But not the purpose you specifically had in mind?

Edward: No . . .

Me: Okay . . . so, what is the purpose you had in mind?

Edward: I heard you say you could feel the anger in your body . . . I thought having a way to move the anger out of your body and then to release it would allow you to feel better on all levels. It might give you some emotional and physical relief.

Me: Okay . . . that makes sense.

At the end of that exercise, when I was struggling so hard to raise my hand and whack the pillow, you offered me support in various forms . . . you asked if it would be helpful if you said gentle encouraging words to me, or if you verbally expressed anger on my behalf . . . you asked if it would be helpful if you sat on the floor behind me so I could feel protected as I expressed my anger . . .

I appreciate all the options you were giving me. However, I was already so overwhelmed by the struggle going on inside of me that I was no longer able to sort through the options and find one that felt do-able.

Usually, when I’m in that situation, I can consider an option you are offering . . . I can say to myself, “That one feels do-able if such-and-such a parameter is in place.” Or, I might say to myself, “Nope, there is no way I can tolerate that option . . . but maybe I’ll be ready to do it next time.” That requires examining exactly what about the option scares me and then finding a way I might cause that scary part to be more tolerable. Usually I can handle the process of figuring that out.

But, I was so overwhelmed by the end of the exercise that I was no longer able to do that kind of processing, so I had to just stop the entire exercise. I really appreciate all the options you were giving me, I just couldn’t handle them in that moment.

Edward: It is helpful to me to have that feedback . . . thank you for telling me that!

Me: I think it could be helpful to me if you sat behind me during that kind of an exercise. It is an option I’d like to keep around for future use.

Edward: Sure! When I offered that, I was thinking it might allow you to feel that I literally “had your back” during the exercise.

Me: I can see where that could be supportive. But, I have a question about that . . . .

Edward: Okay . . .

[Continued in the next post . . . ]

[Private journal entry written on Thursday, May 12, 2011]

Today was therapy session day . . .

As usual, Edward met me downstairs in the lobby and walked with me back up the stairs. He stopped in the restroom while I got settled in his office. When he came into his office and settled in his chair, I was quick to thank him for remembering I wanted to move this session up a week . . .

——————-

Edward: I’m glad I was able to do it! It worked out well. I know the spacing between sessions is important to you.

Me: Yes, it is. I like having about the same number of days between them so I have time to process what we covered in the last session.

Edward: I’m glad it worked out.

It is good to see you today . . . how are you?

Me: I’ve been doing okay . . . mostly, I’ve been processing the memories that were brought up in the last session. I find myself repeatedly shocked at how controlling my dad was . . . how he controlled even how I responded to him and to being hit . . . my survival depended upon my total submission.

Edward: If I remember correctly, in your email, you stated he controlled you on many levels – that he required you to keep your head and your eyes down because, to him, steady eye contact indicated defiance . . . and he would require that you cry when he hit you, but if you cried too long, he would hit you again for that . . .

Me: Yeah . . . I had forgotten how complete his control was over me . . . it was shocking to my system to remember.

Anyway, this week I’m feeling emotionally sensitive . . . emotionally open . . . not raw or painful, just emotionally aware and even somewhat emotionally available . . .

Edward: Tell me more . . . what is that like for you?

Photo by Martin Chen

Me: (With a smile in my voice) Well, I feel . . . for a lack of a better word . . “fuzzy” . . .

(We both laughed)

Me: What I mean by “fuzzy” is . . .well, soft, not hard . . . maybe a little bit feminine – not in a girly-girl way, but in a nurturing way.

I suppose my feeling more emotional was encouraged by some stuff that happened with my cat. (I told him the story of my cat’s medical drama.) I’m feeling more tender and appreciative of my cat now.

The vet doesn’t have any idea why he lost the inner lining of his small intestine . . . he doesn’t know what caused it and he can’t tell me how to make sure it doesn’t happen again. So, I guess it is up to fate to decide if it will happen again . . . and he might not survive the next time. I know his health is likely compromised . . . he was a runt and I suspect he is going to continue to have health issues. I have always sensed he won’t live a full life. So, I’ll just enjoy him for as long as I have him around.

He seems to have been traumatized by the ordeal and is far more clingy – he has always been clingy – he has always needed a lot of cuddling, but he is now even more clingy. I’m feeling protective of him – his drama has really affected me – knowing he might die has really torn me up emotionally.

Anyway, that’s one part of what has been happening in my life lately . . .

Another part is that, for the first time in a long time . . in “forever” really, my desire to live is a tad stronger than my desire to die. I guess I’m in a more neutral place with it . . . I’m ambivalent about whether I live or die . . and that is a better place than where I was a month or two ago, which is when I was wishing, on a daily basis, that I would die.

There have been a few nights where, as I’m falling asleep, I realize I didn’t eat ice cream and that I didn’t even think about eating ice cream. That’s a switch! And, when I’m feeling stressed or anxious, I find that I’m not thinking about wanting to die as much. Instead of always thinking, “This sucks and I wish I would just die so I don’t have to feel this bad anymore,” I find myself thinking, “Well, this too shall pass . . . tomorrow will be better . . just hang in there . . . “

It’s like I’m at a tipping point . . . I don’t want to get too excited about it . . I don’t want to say to myself, “This is a turning point in my journey and it’s all going to be downhill from here,” because the good feeling might not last. I’m not trying to be pessimistic; I just don’t want to get my hopes up. So, instead, I’ll just enjoy it for as long as it lasts and not place any expectations or hope on it continuing indefinitely.

Edward: Can you tell me how long is “forever”? I mean, for how many years have you been wanting to die?

Me: Well, I’ve wanted to die since I was about nine years old. I think I was happy before then . . . I remember being a happy, playful kid before that point . . . at least I didn’t think about wanting to die before then.

(I found myself wanting to talk more about that so he might help me figure out what happened when I was nine that caused me to fall into depression. But, the moment didn’t feel right, so I didn’t bring it up.)

[Continued in the next post . . . ]

[Private journal entry written on Wednesday, May 11, 2011]

A couple of weeks ago, I asked Edward if we could reschedule my summer therapy sessions from Wednesdays to either Mondays or Fridays. My students favor Wednesdays during the summer because it is the day furthest from the weekend. I always block out about four hours for my session – time for the session and travel time (30 minutes each way) and time to recuperate emotionally after the fact. Having the therapy sessions on Wednesday was really creating a schedule conflict for me.

Edward was very willing to do that, but he didn’t have any one Monday or Friday spot that was available on a regular basis. So, we piecemealed together an irregular schedule. Two of the sessions (next week’s and the week after) were only a few days apart – and I prefer to space them two weeks apart in the summer. But, we couldn’t make that happen with the irregular schedule.

Photo by Martin Chen

Edward had made a note that I had requested next week’s session moved up to this week if a spot opened up. His assistant called me today and told me there had been a last-minute cancellation. She asked if I was available tomorrow morning . . . which would move next week’s session up a week and would restore the every-other-week spacing I like. I jumped at the chance . . . so, I have a session tomorrow.

—–

I’ve been getting my summer teaching schedule established. I had planned on about a 50% load over the summer. However, enough students have signed up to continue over the summer that it looks like I’ll have about a 75% load. It would be nice to have the free time to work on some of my “to do” projects; however, having enough money to pay bills is even better.

—–

On Monday, the mom of my most advanced student called me “love” tonight as I left their house. That got me . . . it feels really nice to have clients who care for me that much. I guess the emotional connection I feel with my students goes both ways. That’s neat.

—–

Yesterday morning – very early – I woke up thinking about touch. I’ve been thinking a lot about touch now that touch has become an option within therapy – now that hugging my therapist has become a reality.

I have often wondered why I am so terrified about someone walking in when I’m teaching a young student and accusing me of doing something untoward. I know I never would hurt a child, but I am terrified of someone accusing me of that.

I have struggled many times before with trying to figure this out. I think it is because, as a kid, when I would say something about what happened, or try to act it out with my dolls, people (mostly adults) would respond in horror. I didn’t know I was doing something worthy of that horror, so I got very confused about why they were horrified.

Then, when I started wanting the attention of boys/men, men would either respond with disgust at my desperation or they would take advantage of it and then brush me off abruptly. This confused me because I had no concept of healthy touch . . . affirming touch was absent in our house. My dad couldn’t tolerate touch (was he sexually abused as a kid?) and he was afraid of touching us kids (maybe for the same reasons I am now afraid to touch?)

My mom would touch us . . . it is weird that, when I think about my mom touching me, I most clearly remember lying on my side with my head in her lap so she could clean the wax out of my ears. I guess that is the most comforting touch from her I can remember.

Once I left home, she would hug me when I came back to visit . . . because she missed me. But, before that, I don’t remember any other form of affectionate touch. I wonder if affirming touch was absent in her childhood home. Maybe the only touch she received was corporal punishment. I don’t know.

When guys wanted to touch me, I went along with it because I was so desperate for touch and because I had no concept of healthy boundaries. I thought it was a good thing to allow touch. It provided “feel good” short-term results, but it got negative long-term results. This always confused me.

The whole touch issue still confuses me. In my present life, I’ve just stopped allowing touch, especially within the context of dating. Well, I’ve stopped dating so there is no opportunity for touch within the context of dating. And, I shy away from touch in general. That is why hugging my therapist is a big deal to me.

I guess there is a lot more processing and healing to be done around touch. It feels overwhelming to me.

[Private journal entry written on Sunday, May 8, 2011]

The big news of the week is that, on Tuesday evening, Bogey pooped for the first time since all the drama. I passed along the news to my mom via email and told her, “I’m gonna put that poop into a shadow box and mount it on my wall with a sign that says, ‘This is what a $1,400 poop looks like!’” She responded happily to the news and jokingly told me that she has a coupon for the local framing shop that I could use . . .

I think we might be out of the woods with the cat. Whew!

However, yesterday (Saturday), I was playing “fetch” with him soon after he had eaten a little food and he threw up some of the food. There was no blood and he didn’t act like he felt bad. The amount he threw up was minimal – maybe it was just a result of too much excitement too soon. I’ll have to encourage him to rest more. I still think he is getting better. I don’t think this vomiting is anything serious. He seems fine today.

If it is true that cats have nine lives, I’m sure he is on life number four. He was born a runt in an alley in our little “downtown” area . . . ferral runts usually don’t survive, but he was rescued at a week old and hand-raised by my housemate. Then, my housemate, who is a vet tech, was quite sure he was not strong enough to survive those first few months, even with special care. He was weak, had trouble eating, had trouble walking . . . but, he made it.

And now, everything indicates he should not have survived this medical emergency. But, he did. Alas . . . life number four. I just hope the remaining five “close calls” aren’t as expensive as this one . . . he’s going to have to get a job if that is the case, LOL! At any rate, the least he can do is stay alive for several more years, at least, to make up for his vet bill – he’s got a lot of lovin’ and snugglin’ to do!

—–

I’m still working quite a few hours at the bus barn. At the start of the route, we park the bus in the parking lot of the bus barn and wait for our leave time to roll around. The students who get on at that bus stop can sit on the bus (where it is warm) and wait with us.

There is a middle school student who rides most days who has a history of being a “problem student”. Well, this morning, he got on and expressed great distress . . . he had seen a squirrel in the gutter a couple of blocks away from the bus barn that had obviously been hit by a car. The squirrel was still alive but paralyzed . . . he was flopping and struggling . . . and it was really bothering this student. He begged me to do something about it.

I’m such a softy – I can’t stand to see living creatures suffer – so, of course, I got on the phone and called the fire station on that same block and asked them to walk across the street and put the squirrel out of its misery. Then, I left a message for animal control and asked them to do the same. Then, I promised I would check on the squirrel as soon as we got back to the bus barn, after the route.

That seemed to satisfy him . . . he was still worrying, but he seemed relieved that something would be done soon.

A little over an hour later, we drove by that spot on the way back to the bus barn and I noticed the squirrel was gone. That was good – and I made sure to report that to the student when we picked him up in the afternoon.

I’m glad to see he has such a tender heart . . . maybe his tender heart will lead him into a better mode of behavior as he gets older and gains independence from the difficult family life he currently has. I hope so. I hope that tenderness doesn’t turn into hardness and bitterness.

—–

My sister flew in from the west coast last night and I picked her up from the Denver airport. While we were in Denver, we stopped at a restaurant and had dinner, just the two of us. It was good to spend some one-on-one time with her.

I still don’t feel I can really open up to her . . . I can tell her some things, but I feel like I can’t tell her the big stuff – I think she will judge me and do the thing our family members do when an uncomfortable topic comes up and they don’t agree with what I’m saying – they go silent and then change the subject. I think they think it means they agree with me if they encourage me to share something with which they don’t agree.

So, our conversation was still pretty “sisterly” despite the fact I can’t open up completely to her – and that was nice.

Today is Mother’s Day and we had dinner at my mom’s house. Of course, my sister was there because she is staying with my mom. My brother and his girlfriend drove up from Denver. It was a relaxed day – we just caught up on everything. Again, the conversation was superficial, as usual . . . latest news about jobs, latest news about material acquisitions, latest news about weather . . . nothing of substance. But, it’s time with family and that’s worth something in and of itself.

—–

Today, I read and responded to a comment from a reader (Aaron) concerning the context around me sharing a bed with my dad all throughout my childhood. In responding, I realized that I cherished that time with my dad because it was calm – since he was sleeping, he wouldn’t be criticizing me or hitting me or otherwise punishing me. It was a way I could be close to him in a way that was “safe”.

Hmmmm . . . . maybe that memory – that sense of “safety” – could be a gateway into reconciling the historical stuff with my dad.