Why I left...part 1 of many

I am really in my head today, mostly because yesterday I didn’t have a moment to myself and a lot went on. This may result in many posts that don’t have much to do with each other.

Therapist is presenting at a conference this coming week as she does every year, and this year our relationship is pretty much center stage. This is both a huge honor and a burden. I read her presentation yesterday and a few times today and I am struck by a portion where she speaks of learning I was moving home and how she still does not quite understand why or how the process happened. I feel like I need to dig around in this topic because I am not so sure I fully understand and I have to be honest that I think there are reasons that aren’t as simple as I tried to convince myself they were.

I never imagined that I would ever be the one to walk away. Never in our relationship was I able to consider this because it had become a fact in my life so long ago that no one is ever permanent and I MUST hang on to every little drop because it would go away and I would be left with nothing. The idea that nothing is permanent is something that was a part of my existence and I could not ever see myself as being strong enough to let go of anything I love. It was as true to me as I believe the sky to appear blue. And my God did I try to convince myself a million times that she was leaving. The first four years it was like a life and death situation every time the poor woman went on a vacation. I would be ill for weeks while knowing she was going to leave and then when she did I would be in a deep funk the first couple of days which would turn into a manic obsession to annihilate myself while I waited for our next appointment which I believed she would inevitably cancel because she would realize how much dread she felt at seeing me and it would be over. The more I wanted her around the more I feared she could feel my dependency and come to hate it. She never did.

I gave this woman a thousand reasons to dislike me, to feel burdened and overwhelmed by me and instead of her seeing any of that she found a thousand reasons to keep trying. It’s still absolutely amazing to me. So how did I come to this place where I am standing on my own and able to walk away, to carry her with me and continue my journey with her as a mere sideline coach instead of my guide? When did my obsession with avoiding her abandonment turn into the ability to move away and try life on my own two feet? Was it all my growth and ability to continue on? Or was there fear helping to motivate me? Was it a moment or a process in which this happened? All very good questions and I am afraid of the answers.

When I came home for Christmas last year I don’t remember a really strong pull to suddenly return for good. I remember missing my nephew terribly and wishing I was more a part of his life, I remember him calling me by name for the first time and it felt good. I also remember how much I wanted to return and how good it felt to go back to Atlanta to my own life. I suppose I also had a lot to look forward to during that time, a new relationship, an exciting concert I had waited ten years to see, work promotions and new friendships. I was ok because I had these people in my life there at the time that I felt were going to be supportive. This turned out not to be the case obviously. After all that we began to really work on past stuff in therapy and I think at times it felt so unbearable due to my loneliness and isolation.

I think I always felt that Atlanta was a temporary place for me, although I learned to appreciate the city and my new life there. I found places that felt comforting and I eventually relaxed into the routine of my life and job. I suppose though I needed more than I had there. I needed more of Therapist that was ethically ok and more expensive than I could afford. I needed longer sessions to process and more communication which was not feasible. Struggling through the material of my past was tough and I was so thankful to do the pieces of work that I did with Therapist but my fears of upcoming events were nagging at me and still do to some degree. With Therapists recent marriage I developed an intense fear of her becoming pregnant and not having the room for me that I so needed (and continue to need). I was terrified of having to watch her pregnancy and the changes that would happen even though we both hoped they wouldn’t. It became something that I couldn’t bear to even think about really. I guess in some ways I was also feeling like I would be the worst person on the planet to be around as she experienced one of the most wonderful things in life. I would inevitably feel my grief over my lost babies. I would resent her for having something I fear I may never have. I would be jealous that I could not participate in her pregnancy, like offer suggestions about baby products or whatever because it’s boundary less even though it’s the one thing I am really knowledgeable about. The whole thing wouldn’t be about me but I would make it about me and thus make her miserable. After all we’ve done together I felt like this is one thing that would make her hate being around me and it did help me to make my decision to leave. There, I said it. I know it is selfish and silly, but I had to factor that in to my process.

I knew I wouldn’t move further in my therapy with all those fears pressing on me and it felt more than wrong to make her choices in life my issues to work through. I considered how much I missed my family after my last summer vacation and how I felt as though I might be ready to be the Aunt, Sister and Friend I had moved to Atlanta to work on. I felt supported by my family after my last hospitalization and I remembered how much I wanted to go back to school and make a career change. I couldn’t do that in Atlanta while trying to support myself. In Atlanta I simply couldn’t have all that I wanted or needed, and here in Maryland it’s as close as it can be to that…minus Therapist.

Do I think I was ready to leave Therapist? Probably not. But I am doing it. I am doing ok too. It’s not the best but I am certainly not on a ledge or anything. It hurts me terribly to have hurt her. It makes me sick to think that she’s not really there anymore for me (in some ways) but I feel like maybe there is a chance that the ‘end’ of our relationship really isn’t the end. Maybe I won’t fade for her over time. I cannot wait to tell her when I graduate, marry, have a child…own a home. I want and need her to be a part of my life. And I hope that my absence in her life allows her some freedom too.

One of my dreams would be to write a book about our experience together because seriously, it’s just too good not to share. People out there should KNOW how powerful secure attachment is in trauma therapy. Therapists should feel freedom to share some of themselves with their clients and clients should feel hope that there is healing in all of this. I have a strong desire to speak to clinicians somehow and share with them how my Therapist helped me and how they can help their ‘hopeless’ cases. I am unsure of how I would ever have the opportunity to do that but I hope one day I can. Therapist taught me to not be ashamed of my past and lately I am realizing just how much she pounded that into my head because I am not ashamed of what happened to me. Yes I feel shame, but not at the circumstances. She taught me I am worthwhile and my past does not define me even though it’s what brought us together.

Anyway, more to come.

Broken

“The broken locks were a warning you got inside my head
I tried my best to be guarded, I'm an open book instead
And I still see your reflection inside of my eyes
That are looking for purpose, they're still looking for life

I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing
With a broken heart that's still beating
In the pain (In the pain) there's the healing
In your name (In your name) I find meaning
So I'm holdin' on, (I'm still holdin')
I'm holdin' on, (I'm still holdin')
I'm holdin' on (I'm still holdin')
I'm barely holdin' on to you

I'm hanging on another day
Just to see what you will throw my way
And I'm hanging on to the words you say
You said that I would, would be ok”

-Life House  “Broken”

I always asked her if I was ok, if everything was going to be ok. This song hit me hard today as it’s the first time I have heard it. I am not sure how I missed it but I wish it had been around during the termination process. This is only a small portion of the song but it was very meaningful and the timing was sick…I was driving through a part of town I associate with her.

Aches & Pains

Today is just one of ‘those’ days. I am unsure of why today has turned into one of them but I am assuming that it is a culmination of events. On the one hand I am proud to be sitting here not a total wreck and on the other hand the only reason I am not a wreck is that because I cannot afford to be one. I got out of the hospital yesterday afternoon after an overnight stay for asthma exacerbation. It was one of the more terrifying attacks that I have had, involving an ambulance and a lot of fighting not to be intubated. Fortunately I am fine now, well not fine but I am at home and resting well. It could have been a lot worse I suppose.

My sister, brother in law and little E headed south for a visit with the grandparents on my brother in laws side and at the last minute I found out my sister would be taking a detour to visit my mother with Little E. This stopped me dead in my tracks and shattered me for a bit. I know that my sister would never let Little E be alone with her but the thought of this vile woman in the same room as this little guy turns my stomach a million times over. Here I sit, helpless and knowing he is in a toxic environment. Even though nothing is happening to him I don’t want him to breathe the same air she does. It makes me angry at my sister for being ok to go after knowing what has happened. How can she sit in the same room as my mother, how can she allow her son to be in the same room? It hurts. Why is it that what happened to me isn’t disturbing to my sister enough to stop her from still wanting my mother? It’s days like this that I want nothing more than to be curled up in Therapist’s office and wishing to hold her hand, to look in her eyes and know I am safe with her, that she would kill before allowing me to be hurt. I want to feel her close to me and to know I am ok and that what happened to me wasn’t just a blip in time, it was real and deserves attention and care. I don’t know where Therapist is this very moment but I know it feels farther away than normal.

I wonder how two souls can exist in the same world, two souls that have been sewn together by the past, present and future and belong in the same journey but not have contact often how they function without this weighty sadness all the time. I know that this needed to happen in some ways and in others I sit wondering what the hell I gave up. Don’t get me wrong, I have never been more happy in my life to have my beautiful nephew in my life each day, attached at the hip…or to have my best friend by my side. It’s awesome and I have many moments each day where I am just simply at peace and thankful. On the other hand I sit wondering what I have lost and my heart aches for Therapist’s kind eyes, warmth and safety. I suppose the younger parts of me are desiring this more often than I am and I find it difficult if not impossible to comfort them.

Trying to parent my internal world has proven more difficult than I had bargained for. I suppose I hadn’t realized how much of their weight that Therapist pulled. It seems that parts of me relied simply on her presence for a sense of safety and above of existence. I work my ass off daily to try to give them what they need, exhausting myself each night before submitting to a choppy sleep. I try to involve them in the fun activities that I organize for my nephew each day, I try to help them see that I am trying to hold them, to feel their hands and hear their whispers. I try to honor them and spend more time with them than I ever have but yet it just isn’t enough and I don’t know what will ever fill the hole they feel enough to quiet their cries.

How do you hold the hand of a vulnerable child and tell them that you are there for them when your own body is the one they feel betrayed them? How do you explain that when you left their safe person it wasn’t because you thought they didn’t deserve it but because you thought for the growth of the whole person we had to move on? How do you sit with them as they tell you the horrifying depths of their torture is what keeps them awake at night, and tolerate their fears as they know that you are the only person they have now? It’s hell is what it is. And it’s all I can do for now.

I am scheduled to speak with Therapist this week on Friday and I both anxiously awaiting it and dreading it. I cannot wait to hear her voice yet I am terrified of being unable to keep some of the younger parts of me tucked away. The last thing I want is to scare her or overwhelm her. I am ok when we aren’t talking but as soon as I hear her voice I melt into mush and want to be next to her again.

One day I promise to stop blogging about this.

how?

I downloaded the new Peter Bradley Adams CD and I find I am having a very difficult time listening to it and not feeling overwhelmed, angry and terribly sad. He seems so attached to Therapist and I cannot even ask her if she has listened to it. I think she would really enjoy the album. If Coldplay comes out with a new album I doubt I’ll be able to handle it.

The past couple of weeks have been really strange. I have been really sick on and off and it’s taken a toll on my emotional reserves. Prednisone always gives me a hard time when trying to cope emotionally so I have to admit at times I find it difficult to stop moving for fear I might have a feeling or two. The other day I was driving Little E somewhere and randomly had the thought that I needed to start seeing a therapist again, at the very minimum to process my termination with Therapist. I am not sure I want to get into the DID stuff anytime soon but I feel pretty lonely when it comes to grieving and feeling so sad. I am really stuck on how to talk about it with anyone even though sometimes I really want to. I feel like I’d just keep saying the same things over and over again which is neither productive or all that pleasant for the party listening to me. So I am bottling it up and occasionally allow it to take over when I am alone. It does explode though when I speak with her on the phone. Like an eruption of sadness and childlike needing. Can we say embarrassing?

Lately, quite a bit of good therapy fodder has come up as I am caring for the precious little boy, Little E. And not maybe not just that but constantly being in the adult role puts a new spin on dynamics I see play out or remembering situations from my own childhood with the adult brain I now use 95% of the time. I’m finally feeling the outrageousness of what I’ve been through and have these moments of breathtaking clarity that it was really terrible back then. Maybe I am also feeling the stark difference in my life where I have moments where I can only thank my higher power for letting me be alive to experience. Being thankful also brings me back to the pain…because I should have always had those moments I suppose.

Therapist gave me a book before I left. It’s a children’s book called “No Matter What” which I frequently read to Little E at naptime. The story is about an adult and child talking about how the adult will never stop loving the little kid no matter what. So the kid asks a bunch of different ways how their love could change for them if they were somehow different and the adult continues and continues to reassure the child that no matter what they will love them just the same. What a concept. I read that book during our final session sitting next to Therapist aching and being so thankful for her words and the book. I miss that reassurance because some days it really fades. Some days I forget that I am loved and I feel lost thinking about myself as a child and how small and alone I was. I think about all that had to happen to cause me to have done the things that I have done to myself.

My best friend and I have been talking about this lately as she struggles to come to terms with her own DID diagnosis and she has a story from her childhood where she tried to hang herself when she was three years old. I try and compare my nephew to her as a kid and ask her what the hell would have to happen to Little E to cause him to even think about death. He is currently too young to have any experience with death, it’s a foreign concept as it should be. I give her examples over and over again about what would have to be done to Little E to push him over the edge that way and it breaks my heart. It breaks for her and then it hits home and I feel terribly sad for the child I used to be. Our stories are not all that different and sometimes I get caught up in bringing her into reality and often bring myself too. I mean Jesus Effing Christ, what happened to us? Just little tiny and fragile little girls and some people ripped it up, tore it down and left us for dead. Yet here we sit, actually we are both sitting here in my room right now blogging/writing away…and we survived. A few minutes ago she asked me “How do you think you survived your childhood?” and I swear I don’t have an answer and I am not sure I ever will.

How did I have the courage to keep going? Why did I continue to fight? How did I not just lay down and die? And how did I end up with this amazing best friend or this awesome Therapist that have led me to want to be alive and experience life for real? How is it that I now have moments of pure peace and joy and recognize it and I cry happy tears at its awesomeness? How did ALL this happen in the past 26 years? I survived the abuse, the pimping, the starving, the pregnancies, the broken bones, the chemicals, the sickness, the abandonment, the drugs, the witnessing and yet here I sit doing ok. How? I am thankful though.

Termination is bull-s#@*

My sickness is lifting some and I am feeling like I have more energy so I decided this was my first priority. I’ve been thinking a lot about termination lately and wondering why I feel so angry about things. I mean I was the one to leave and all but something still strikes me as frustrating or angering and it must not be in reality. I have to check and recheck my brain and wonder if Therapist really did care about me or if she felt the same ways that I did and when I remember the time spent in our sessions processing the leaving, I remember her tears. So she must have felt it.

Ooooh, I got it!!! I have ALWAYS used Therapist as a guide to my own emotions. When I am unsure how to feel or unsure what the feeling I am having is all about I mirror her and this time I cannot! That is why I am having such a difficult time reality checking what actually happened. I should really write more often. Wow, that was kind of a ‘duuuuh’ moment. This is the first time I am doing something without Therapist as my gauge for reaction, I am capable of having my own emotions in the moment but it is difficult to go back and re-examine the reality later because I have a hard time with distortions creeping in trying to convince me not to have certain feelings. It’s so much easier to try and convince myself that Therapist didn’t share the experience because it’s painful to think she did.

What this all boils down to is that I miss her. A lot. We talked last week for our monthly check in (it’s been a whole month???) and I didn’t get out anything that I needed. I choked up and was angry at myself for not being able to express myself. I was sad and hurt that it felt like she was so far away and I was pissed that I can’t have what I want which is in my opinion not that crazy. I interpreted Therapist’s distance as her having moved on, adjusted to life without me and I felt as though I was just standing still. I was angry. I am doubtful that this is the case but when I heard her voice all I wanted to do was sit safely in her office on my little space on the floor and stare at her shoes wishing I was curled up next to her. But no, I was 600 miles away standing in a frigid backyard watching Little E talk to himself about attics. She was in traffic on her way to work and our lives couldn’t be more far apart than they were in that moment. It was lonely and I still feel the ache in my heart.

Younger parts of me have strong reactions about not saying goodbye to her and Therapist offered something for that although I am not sure what that means exactly, it was vague. I thought about jumping on that but then decided I needed to do some serious thinking about that. Like, was I wanting to allow some sort of process because it meant contact with Therapist or was it really for parts of me to have closure? I need to think about how much uproar that could cause and whether or not that is something I am ready to cope with right now. Also, is there anything else that really needs to be said by her or is this my job to take care and reassure parts of me without her help? Most losses you don’t get a proper goodbye so should I just do what I need to do internally?

Another thing, this whole therapeutic relationship termination stuff is bull shit. There I said it. There is no other relationship like the one that happens between client and therapist and if anyone believes that there is a model for termination they should reconsider their credentials. Each therapy relationship is unique, just like friendships or familial relationships. You cannot quantify it. There are a million and one factors that make each termination different, how the hell do you adjust? For instance, termination with a client of 6 months is totally different than a client of 6 years. It’s different based on the struggles you have overcome and the trials you have been through. Termination is completely different for one client if you saw the same therapist for 11 years but only once every couple of months for a divorce issue than a client that saw the same therapist three times a week for year over the loss of a child. Each one is different. How do you determine what is best after the therapy is over? I think so little time is spent on this topic because most people never terminate properly or just never terminate officially. Why is there even a model? Maybe for the asshole therapists out there that don’t have an ounce of common sense but I think it should be up to the therapist and the client to decide without other professionals being judgmental or the therapist having to worry about what ‘ethics’ should be considered. If they are a good therapist they don’t even have to think about ethics, they use them every day.

Ugh. More later I suppose.