I'm doing that thing now where I wonder if I'd rather stay quiet, never known, if I'd rather be harmlessly and totally infatuated or introduce myself and hope I get to know you. I don't particularly need to know anyone new right now; I'm kind of scared and overwhelmed with the relationships I do have. and even though I do feel a little creepy holding onto this secret interpersonal intoxication, with you as distant as a book character or a celebrity... I do sort of wish I had a best friend who could come over and look at your picture and listen to why I think you're brilliant and tell me how to love you, whether I choose option a or b, choose silent or direct... someone who could see me stifle a smile, sheepishly, and giggle at my grin. I want it so badly; I can hardly trust it's real. it would be cute, you know; it would be cool to have a crush. the irony. I couldn't recognize them when I wanted nothing to do with romance, and now that I want them, I doubt their validity. damn. not that I want a lot to do with romance now. mostly, I want to acquaint myself with that aspect of my identity. mostly, I like these smiles I've never personally tried out, this soft embarassment that feels more like floating...
*
I'm tiiiiiiiiiirrrrrrrrred.
*
and as for you... well. let's just say that when you promised not to bite, I didn't realize you were the slippery-bodied fish that I was casting after...
nibble, damn you, nibble.
*
I'll abandon my vagueness now and return to normal subject matter. Tomorrow is Monday. This means, as usual, I have a session. Scared much? Not so much. Yes, Friday I was convinced that the Superdoc had pulled a Darth Vader on me, and Saturday I was convinced that not only did I not understand how to resolve what happened, it probably could not be resolved. I won't propose any pretense around that experience: awful plummeting toward despair at the speed of ugh. I don't think I even realized how permanently fucked up I would be if I lost the doctor right now. I cannot imagine - and I've tried, over the past few days, I honestly have tried - picking the work up with someone new. I thought it might have to be that way. The girl who doesn't run, who cannot for the life of her leave: me. Not to say I didn't think I was running. Just like with Harriet, I was convinced that I was only running away to escape doing the real work, despite the fact that - anyone, anyone? - I've never actually done that. Ok, "never" might be a stretch. But in the long run, overall, where it counts, I have always held my ground or walked upon it. Or as the doctor pointed out when he finally, finally called me (at about seven yesterday evening, 27 hours since our appointment by the clock, approximately a week and a half according to my senses) I've never resisted or challenged any push/ pull/ guidance/ suggestion for the sake of resisting or out of some subconscious need to sabotage my own recovery. At least not since I've been working with him. I might have done that second one at some point; I feel a little pinching in my stomach when I mention it. But anyway, he feels as I do (yeay) - that there's some vital information in the fears and in the pain that this "commitment and goal" shit brought up, and that we'd best look at those fears, no matter what I decide to do tomorrow.
The phone call itself was rather weird. I'd been waiting for him to call me since approximately seven or eight o'clock the night before. And I hadn't really slept the entire time. But I hadn't really woken up either. When he did call, I was about 95% asleep, and had to take a few minutes simply to remember how to construct sentences and what the hell had so upset me. I do not understand this man, the doctor. I don't understand how he's possible. How is it possible that someone can do something so clearly insane, so obviously wrong, so obviously unresolvable - leaving me questioning practically every facet of my life and scribbling my own conclusions - only to call me *before the next night* and say those same conclusions to me? Does that strike anyone else as very, very odd? Friday, he was so obviously a jackass... and Saturday, he was the doctor again...maybe not the Superdoc, but the doctor nonetheless. It made no sense to me. And so maybe there's relief to be found in the fact that he did not understand entirely; he could not read every chapter of my mind through the phone line. But he had hit upon most of the major points. And he helped me understand a few others. We didn't communicate at all well around the commitment issue; I didn't understand what he was asking me. If he was asking me to simply come up with *any* goal, regarding recovery from the agoraphobia, and commit to it, I would not have entered a total meltdown. I thought he was asking me to commit to complete recovery from the agoraphobia - and whatever else is left - and that's not something I could agree to do on someone else's schedule. That's not something I could agree to do so long as I still had so many fears that we hadn't even discussed, fears I hadn't listened to and talked with and decided to challenge. As usual, it was mostly "breakdowns in communication" that made us feel so divergent... And those are reparable, thank godd, although it may take some time. It was odd, at the end of the phone call, to hear him say that we would be able to work through this. I've worked with so many difficult things in relationships, worked so hard not to walk away from the pain and the challenges and the outright bad times... but with him, I really was ready to bolt. At least somewhat. I was comforted when he said we could work through it. I never wanted to run, so much as I was scared it would be necessary...
I told him how I had felt powerless, I'd felt like he'd made a decision, and I didn't have any voice, I could not be heard... I told him how scared and angry that made me. And he said something similar to what I said, raving, in that original entry: we've never worked through a system of manipulation. Ever. "We've never worked that way," he said. And after about a minute, I managed to say, "Yeah ... we've never worked that way ... but ... I have ... with other people." So then I ended up telling him that it had felt like something Dave might pull - and was kind of amused to notice that he seemed perturbed by that comparison. He asked if there had been a feeling that I would be "punished" for not doing what was asked of me with Dave, to which I laughingly replied, "No, that would have been Harriet." I explained that it was Dave-like to make a decision, put your foot down, and quit hearing what I had to say on the matter - and that Friday had felt that way to me. (Damn I was brave.) I told him that I felt manipulated, and even if I believed I was being manipulated for my own good... it was still manipulation. And that's never for my own good. He said we'd have to discuss what the word "manipulation" meant, which didn't sound too understanding to me - but then when he spoke of it, he defines it the same way I do. And he's right that we have never worked that way. But the news that I'd felt like I did when Dave made it clear that I *would* leave on the tenth of November... no matter what ...got through to him. He wants to talk about that, among other things. And I'd like to remember to tell him it felt similar to when he tried to put me back in school...
The one thing I didn't really manage to be honest about, he picked up anyway. Damn his insight. He asked if there was anything else I needed from him - after we'd clarified what we needed to talk about, that there was no wrong answer to the "assignment" regarding goals and such, etc. I don't know what came over me, but I asked him if I'd screwed up somehow. I did doubt myself quite a bit; I figured that he understood something I didn't, and I was sabotaging myself by not going along with him, that I didn't really want to get better or some such stuff and nonsense. So I asked him if I'd screwed up somehow. He asked why on earth I thought that, and I told him that the things he was saying now were just what I'd been thinking Friday - that we needed to talk about the fears, go from there, etc - and I didn't understand why we couldn't have just gone from there without taking this particular byroad. "Ah," he said. (He actually says ah.) "You want to know if you screwed up, and implicit in that statement is the idea that maybe, doc, you screwed up..." I wanted to scream no, but I know he's right. I do think he fucked up. I worry that I did, too, but that's mainly when I'm beating myself up. I know I misunderstood a few things, but mostly I don't think this was my fault. He told me it wasn't, of course. He told me that the only point of any suggestion or assignment that he makes is to work with it, to work with what comes of it... He said that by not putting it out of my head (as if I could have) and just shrugging the whole thing off until Monday, I'd done my part, and actually, I'd done really well. Which was nice - but didn't help me feel a great deal better. I think I felt better when he said that I thought he screwed up... Transparent and scared, but also relieved. I didn't manage to be honest about that, completely, and it helped to realize he knew anyway.
So, I guess we're talking about commitment and manipulation and Dave and agoraphobia and who knows what else tomorrow. Aiy. I've been calling him far less intense names since we spoke, although he doesn't seem entirely redeemed, but then, I don't think it's "his fault" entirely. I think he bears some responsibility; he could have listened to some things he didn't hear. Personally, I want to learn to assume miscommunication. Unintentional until proven premeditated. I was upset that he could hurt me knowing so well how it would effect me, and the truth is, he just didn't entirely understand me that second. Once again, I'm foiled by the fact that he's *so good* at seeming infallible. Now, there's a problem you don't run into often. Maybe that's why any relational problems he and I have feel so different from my other relationships. There's such a weird equal-but-not-peer-like quality to our connection that I end forgetting obvious things. Such as, you know, he's human.
As far as I can tell, anyway.
I can't believe I still haven't written about the concert when it was sooo good. Oy. New cd = amazing. Quarter after twelve = bedtime for tonight.
...I know we're going to understand things we wouldn't have if it weren't for this little hiccup in the "process." (He said that on the phone, that word - and then caught himself and repeated it. I hadn't even heard it, but I laughed when he said it again. Reminders of a relationship's good moments when things feel like you can't possibly resolve things are very, very appreciated.) But I still sort of wish it had never happened. Remind me to tell you my pre-phone-call plan for Monday's session. It's remarkably innovative, though possibly childish. Not bad under the circumstances, under the stress.
Oh, and note to the Dream King: I appreciate all the good times with Chas, but um... can she please not say or do anything scary tonight? Like, "the second round of chemo didn't take, but don't get upset; it's ok" ... and so forth? Chas is doing well, damnit. And I appreciate the nighttime proximity, not having had real proximity in so long... but none of this terminal illness stuff. I'll end up sending her paranoid e-mails.
I think she prefers the rambling, adoring ones. Adoration. Yeah, well. I have lots of leftover infatuation from years past. And she did help write the gospel on how, when, and whom to love. Mmmmm. Stop! I'm missing her too much! Oog! To bed with me. I'll drop her a line in the morning, and I will remember to acknowledge Shandi's birthday. Come on, brain; we can do this. You can have naptime afterward. Naptime.
(I think it's effectively enticed. Squee.)
~me