Shrinking Bubbles

I have an amazing therapist.

She “gets” me and has really helped me sort out some deep-seated issues.  I have faced things that I haven’t necessarily been able to face in the past.  I have thought about things that I refused to contemplate.  She has helped me see things in a more clear and rational way.  She doesn’t stare at me and nod her head. She doesn’t look at me with pity, she doesn’t make me draw my own conclusions.  She is actively involved in my dialogues. 

I had an exceptional one before her- she also helped me through A LOT of shit.  She helped me through the “panic era”.  She taught me meditation.  I felt like she saved my life. But I am not talking about THAT amazing therapist.  I am talking about THIS one.

I look forward to seeing her every week. I feel understood and I feel better after I see her. I keep thinking that if I wasn’t her “patient” we would actually be friends.  I could see hanging out with her laughing over a glass of wine about this and that.  I had this whole fantasy of my new best friend.

Yeah…that is a big stupid mistake. I pay her to like me- to be interested and to care. 

In one of my “darkest hours” (VERY DRAMATIC) of Cymbalta withdrawal, I emailed her.  I was feeling a little desperate and freaked out.  I couldn’t stop crying, my legs were all freaky and I couldn’t keep still- which was FANtastic with the plantar fasciatis.  I felt like I was going to yak constantly, my brain was jiggly in my head and I couldn’t figure out what the fuck was going on.  I had visions of my finger nodule being a tumor and I had cancer and it was taking over my brain. My thoughts went there because I could and because, well, one is NOT exactly rational when under deep Cymbalta withdrawal distress.  I felt like I needed her calm voice to talk me down off of my cliff of despair.  I needed to talk and figure out why I felt SO unhappy and hopeless.

POP

That was the sound of that bubble bursting

Amazing wonderful Therapist is not available. I felt like I was standing in the rain- cold and wet looking in a window at her drinking tea with someone much more entertaining then me and I wasn’t invited. Oh look they are laughing! But I need to laugh….Oh look the other more entertaining person looks so reassured and comforted.  Hhhhhhhey……

I think I kind of had a girl crush on her.  I am not gay but I can admit it.  It is probably like how one crushes on a teacher or someone “of authority” who is helpful and kind. So the admiration aspect almost makes it worse. It all makes me feel so queer and not in the gay sense, but like the awesome word from the 70’s-80’s used to describe something that is just dumb and unconventional or as Webster so eloquently puts it “differing in some odd way from what is usual or normal”.

She has emailed me several times since Monday to let me know she was available on Wednesday at our normal time and then to see if I was available on Saturday when she didn’t hear back from me.  I didn’t reply until today. SOOOO immature. 

Did she worry? I don’t think so. 

I was pissed because I felt rejected. I needed her and she wasn’t there. Are shrinks supposed to be there all the time or just on that one given day for that one given hour every week? What about the fact that I was having a withdrawal crisis (at least I (Bold and capital) thought so) or those other times that I am feeling particularly lost? Am I supposed to hold that thought until Saturday when it is more convenient?  

So per usual, I took care of myself. I cried to Sam, I cried to Lisa, I cried to my pillow, the TV, Milo, the car steering wheel….. I remember vaguely in, my drug withdrawal haze, that I was able to STOP crying after seeing a guy walking on the boardwalk in a purple thong.  My flawdar (a radar for flaws) went into bonky mode.  And rather then spew out judgments for the sake of making ME feel better I looked at Lisa and said “He must feel really good about himself to walk around like that- I wish I felt that way about MYself.”  I was amused and repulsed all at the same time and for a moment forgot that among other things, I felt rejected and blown off my beloved and beautiful Shrink,

Who I am going to see on Saturday morning,

Because she IS an amazing therapist.

      AND

 Knowing that I am JUST another patient.