This blog post is about this week’s therapy, my shifting perspectives of what I need in therapy, and some more thoughts about loneliness. But that is all very literal and academic – the feelings inside me are much more raw, I imagine their vibrant, angry colours and the jagged shapes they make across my insides. “Ouch” doesn’t cut it.
Was tough with R this week. We had spoken during the week this week, which was not in our agreement and we talked a lot about it. We were meant to talk identity (I even had my collage in my bag), but we didn’t. R needed to clarify our boundaries, for her sake and mine. I agreed, but feeling told off was really difficult and feeling rejected, particularly as we’re over halfway now, was worse.
We talked about why I feel I can’t cope on my own, why I’m so dependent on someone else. I have spent my whole life attached to someone else, like a limpet, relying on them for my safety. I cried whilst we talked of how I don’t want to be independent, how I want to be loved and cared for and how I want to be the most important person in someone’s world. I cried about how I’m not the most important person in anyone’s world.
Nobody has me as their Most Important Person. Not T, not my ex, not my parents. We both went quite quiet when I realised that I’m not even my own M.I.P.. I spend my life having someone else as my M.I.P. – loving someone else and caring for them in a way that I absolutely cannot do for myself. I have done it professionally, but also personally and that is really difficult because it looks obsessive. ‘Being stalkerish’ is one of my biggest fears, but I fear that I behave that way often. I am inconsequential, to myself and to everyone around me. I mean nothing. I am nothing. How sad is that.
I cried some more as we talked about my future in therapy and what I think I now need. I want T, but I’m scared that we’re pandering too much to Little. I’m terrified that I am paying T to mother me every week and that I’m purposefully making no effort to ‘get better’ because I love the warmth of her. She is the only person in my whole world that I’ve allowed ‘inside’ – her hugs connect to Little directly, her words are heard by her, and the warmth of her warms Little’s cold, broken body. I love cuddles and my adult is very happy hugging other people – but they are received with a barrier in place, to stop anyone touching Little. I feel safe enough with T for her to connect to that broken inner 6yo directly. That’s massive.
We talked about how R and I could never work together long term at the moment – she talked about integration and how the process of therapy for her is about integrating, but at the moment Little needs her own, very separate voice and R isn’t the person to work with that. I said how stuck I feel, that Little has to be heard before I can move forward, but I’m worried that hearing her means I’ll never be able to move forward. If I continue to allow Little this free access to T, then my fear is that she will develop and heal but I will be lost entirely, and I will find myself trying to survive in an adult world, much like I had to struggle to survive in my child’s world. I’m done with struggling.
I said how much I’d enjoyed working with her these weeks, how much I’ve valued a different perspective, but we both knew that I couldn’t do that ‘full time’ at the moment. I talked about how sometimes I just need safety and space and warmth and T is the only person in the world I have ever wanted that from. R and I can’t work together full time, but it actually physically hurts me to think of me losing this ability to see my life in the present. She obviously told me to talk to T about this, but I’m scared I’ve pushed Little so far to the forefront with T that I don’t know how to be a ‘grown-up’ with her anymore. We used to spend lots of time as a grown up with T, then occasionally Little would have her. Recently I feel like she’s running the show. And what if I can’t get that back?
But then I have nights when she is pining for Rabbit with such intensity that I cannot even consider not allowing her whatever platform she needs right now.
R and I are speaking on the phone next week, then we have one session left. I’m already dreading it. But I’m more terrified tonight that I can see a time now where R and I could work successfully together long term – a time when Little and I are integrated enough to cope with her level of focus and goal-orientated work. I can see it. I’m not sure I ever would want to work with her long term, but I can see how it could work. My next big therapy (and life) step is to learn to rely on myself more. To build myself splints and scaffolds that allow me to carry Little. To grow up.
T, please don’t stop sitting with me. I need you in the darkest times. But I have got to find a way to start caring for her myself. Just like I’ve felt about my body recently. It’s all the same bloody thing. Learning to integrate all the different parts of me instead of having one huge internal war going on all the time. I hate all the fighting.
Talking about a time when I’m not in therapy with T terrified me. I’m not sure I can even explain why. I will miss her horribly and I absolutely cannot cope with the thought that I’ll become forgotten and unimportant whilst she fills my hour with someone else. But then I’m scared that we’ll always be stuck in therapy because being stuck gives her a reason to care about me – when I’m not stuck she’ll stop caring. Where is the motivation for me to get better/integrate?
It should be coming from me but it’s not because I don’t care about me because I feel totally unimportant. We come back to how I am not my own being, but a limpet connected to others. When I’m not her client, who am I? Who cares about me then? Nobody. Not her. Not me.
R told me, after all this, that she knows that one day I will be someone else’s M.I.P., but most importantly, I will be my own M.I.P.. She told me she has every faith that that will happen. So I’m trying to hold on to her faith, this week.