Remember last week when I mentioned Therapist had suggested skipping a session and I was mostly ok with it? HA! I am so full of shit sometimes. I’m not ok with it, not even close. Why? Well, in my rational, logical mind which occasionally graces me with its presence, I know that skipping a week while she’s off is no big deal. There’s no crisis right now, I’m doing well, and it’s a good time to start challenging the dependency I have on her. But my emotional mind? Whole different ball game, separation is one of my biggest triggers. Emotional mind was playing havoc with me in the session this evening, following a week of working hard to keep it at bay ever since the suggestion of a longer gap between appointments.
|I’m seeing more of wise mind these days but emotional mind was definitely driving this evening.|
Have you figured it out yet? Yup, back to the old bpd favourites……..rejection, abandonment, boundary pushing etc etc etc. It sucks. I understand that she has a life outside the therapy room, I really do. I understand that I’m not a priority in her life, that I’m a client, that she works with me but then leaves that work in the office. I get that. She has to, it’s a safety feature for her as much as me, and is the same with any client. But emotionally? Emotionally, her telling me I’m doing well and don’t need a session next week feels like being told to close the door on my way out.
It makes no sense. Having feelings this intense, over something so small, so inconsequential, makes not one single shred of sense. But that’s the thing, bpd doesn’t make sense. Hubby just came in to see how I’m doing, he knew I had a tough session earlier, and even explaining the merest outline of what’s going through my head right now has me in pieces. I feel like I’ve been utterly cut off. We talked about it, in the session. I haven’t felt so uncomfortable, so completely exposed, in quite some time. I literally wanted to hide behind the chair, cover myself with a blanket, do anything at all to put up some form of defence between us. Best I could manage was avoiding eye contact at all costs and not breathing unless it was absolutely necessary. It was so bloody hard to talk about – admitting to the very person I rely on to help me that I have all these horribly conflicting emotions going on about her – challenging doesn’t even come close. Excruciating would be better. I wish I could find the right words……..imagine being back in school, painfully shy, and finally, finally working up the courage to go up and talk to someone. Then imagine that someone turning their back on you, laughing at how utterly pathetic you are, at how ridiculous the notion is that you could ever possibly be friends. Sure, for good measure, let’s make you suddenly realise you’re naked, and the entire school is pointing and laughing. Really imagine it. Does that make you feel sick? Because that’s a fraction of how foolish and rejected I felt this evening.
I get that it’s not real. I get that it’s a pattern, we talked about that too. It’s the same pattern that’s been playing over, and over, and over again this last almost 6 years, only now, it’s playing out in a more condensed version. What I went through in the session tonight would have taken a good three weeks a year ago. Therapist gave me the potted version of how I used to react to separation – I’d shut down, agree I’d be fine for the few weeks then spend those weeks desperate to speak to her. The closer we got to a session, the angrier I’d get, and I’d bounce back and force so much about whether to cancel or not that by the time I was actually sitting in front of her I’d be too angry to speak. I’d stew for most of the session, then 30 seconds before it was time to leave, I’d spit out the problem, but, we wouldn’t have time to address it. She’d have to give me a few extra minutes to calm down, boundaries blurred all over the place, and by the time I saw her again, I’d be too embarrassed to talk about it. It would eventually come to a head after a few weeks when I’d be able to admit how much I struggled while she was off, and all the associated shame/guilt/rejection etc etc.
So where’s the positive spin? I’m still struggling with this. But now, I can at least see it for what it is. It is 100% disordered thinking, and it’s textbook bpd. That said, knowing what’s going on doesn’t make it feel a whole lot better. Having a sore foot and knowing it’s sore because it’s broken doesn’t make it feel any different. It just gives me a reason for the pain.
Anyway. We’ve agreed to miss the session next week. I’m glad I was able to talk to her about the emotional maelstrom going on inside me, but now I have the aftermath to contend with. It’s likely to leave me a little bruised and raw for a few days. I know I’ll be ok, I’ve managed much worse. It’s just sitting with all this emotion until it passes that’s the hard part.