I swear, it’s a true fucking wonder that I haven’t killed myself yet.
This past week (month? Year?) of therapy has just been impossible. I’m trying so hard to make sense out of what feels so complicated and confusing and hurtful, yet I seem to make no progress.
I tried yet again today to talk to my therapist about my belief that she can be cruel and sadistic in her withholding of reassurance and compassion. She seemed genuinely surprised, and then frustrated.
She reiterated that sometimes she can’t be the thing that reassures me. She said she “can’t re-parent me” and that I need to provide that for myself.
I asked her what, exactly, the reference point on that is supposed to be. If I need re-parenting because my parents failed so spectacularly, how exactly am I supposed to know how to parent myself?
She said I need to use my imagination.
I then asked where in my life I would have ever got any messaging that would even allow my imagination to come up with things like self-love or self-compassion? She said I’d need to create that; I’d need to find a way to see that I’m valid and worthy.
I told her I felt unwanted and as though I don’t belong anywhere. She said that seems painful and told me I need to believe that I am wanted and I belong.
She kept telling me I was speaking in the abstract, which made it hard for her to address my specific concerns. She wanted me to go back and find an example of a time when she was withholding. I told her it was cruel to ask me to revisit a time when I was vulnerable and did not receive reassurance from her just so she could NOT reassure me yet again.
So I said I didn’t want to go there and she responded that there was nothing for us to do then.
So instead, I talked about disorganized attachment; how the intense pull towards her matches the intense need to push her away. It’s confusing and terrifying. She validated that experience and said we may just need to exist in that very uncomfortable and difficult space for a while, until we can move through it enough to lessen the intensity.
She asked me outright what she could do to eliminate my suffering, which felt more like a challenge then a genuine inquiry. I explained that I didn’t think anything she did could eliminate my suffering, but I do think there are ways she could help to ease it.
But the problem is that she seems very invested in the idea that I need to experience my suffering in order to heal.
Very Jungian. And very true.
But I don’t see why both things can’t exist together? I think I can experience suffering alongside the experience of getting reassurance and comfort from her. A sort of emotional scaffolding, if you will.
At the end of session, I asked if she was around this weekend to talk. I explicitly told her I wanted to be able to talk to her this weekend. She said she’s around, but may not be able to return my call as quickly as usual (which is fine).
Then I spoke of how awful it feels to essentially hate her/feel rejected by her at the exact same time I am feeling like I desperately need to be able to talk to her.
So there’s less than a minute left in session and for whatever reason, she responds to that by saying,
“And I wonder what’s with the feeling that you need to talk to me?”
I am fairly certain she asked that to be curious about my experience around this, but holy shit did that ever feel like a rejection!
I felt like she was telling me to not call her, or to not need to talk to her. The implication that I need to be curious about my desire to talk to her over the weekend (as if I’m not always curious about every little thing I think and feel, especially around her) really seemed like it was motivated by some negative reaction she was having to me. And the fact that she posed this question when we had zero time to discuss it’s impact felt really unfair.
As I stood up to put on my coat I just started sobbing. I felt so alone and worthless and confused and angry and helpless.
I struggle to describe how utterly horrible it feels to be in the presence of my therapist lately. I just feel myself spinning out of control and I feel so desperate to regain any sense of power.
I don’t even know what to do anymore.