THE THERAPIST: TO LEAVE OR NOT TO LEAVE?

Looks Like Leaving My Therapist Now Is Not A Great Idea

2:00 AM PDT, June 25, 2010

One day, I won't be sitting in this extra large chair with its worn-through patchwork cover and too many pillows; curled up with my face leaning on a pillow in the same position every week; glancing around at the same cheap fake paintings of women looking at the sea from wicker couches and chairs and tables; avoiding what usually is an agonizing hour due to her lack of any empathy, humor, encouragement, or personality. One Wednesday, I will stop spending from 2pm to 3 in this office. I will feel well enough to say good-bye; although at this particular point that plan was looking exceedingly doubtful considering it was a Tuesday and I had called her to beg her to see me.

"I blocked him. Isn't that courageous? I blocked him from facebook, texts, my phone number, everything. Of course, he could still come over and actually see me but... oh my GOD I hadn't even THOUGHT of that!"

 I paused, horrified, for a millisecond. I Could not think about that ever again; which meant I would obsess about it 24/7. Here I had blocked him out of my virtual world, (which had seemed to have overcome my real life world but that's another story), thinking it sent him a message strength on my part that would make him panic -- to I know longer cared about his carelessness, (although I thought his actions much more deliberate with the intention to drive me mad) and yet he could simply he could hop in his fancy car I had keyed in a rage that he had repainted but at least had stopped demanding the money, and come right over to see me. Shit.

There were moments I was stronger and others where I thought the pain - the irrational, sick, unrelenting, broken-hearted pain would kill me. If I were my best friend I would say, 'This is totally ridiculous. There are so many men in the world. Why do you chose the ones who can't love you? Why do you try? What is wrong with you? Don't take it personally it is his problem, not yours.' But I wasn't my best friend. Worst enemy? 

"I don't know what to do."

I waited for her response. I thought she might smile or say something brilliant and soothing. She reminded me of my boyfriends -- she was very hard to please.

 This was one serious shrink. Her face didn't even change expression. She was doodling on her yellow lined pad, as usual. Once I blasted her about that, but she explained it helped her think. 

"Now I hear nothing from him!" She stayed silent, stating the obvious: 'you blocked him. What did you expect?'   "This is sooo out of control." I moaned.

She finally looked up and spoke but her eyes revealed nothing -- not anger, impatience, sympathy, empathy, a new revelation -- nothing. "You are out of control. We have to keep the facts straight." 

Her voice was smooth and even, like her skin. She was very pretty in her own way I thought, with black bangs and green eyes with light flawless skin that made it impossible to guess her age. I would say, 28. She wouldn't tell me. In fact, I know nothing about her.

My mind wasn't ready to care. it was in addictive mode. I needed a fix.

"I am ballistic over this.  Even though he can't write me?  I write him. I try to keep it to a minimum, seeing as the entire point is to break all contact."  I paused at my words, mulling over how ridiculous they sounded. I was out of control. "I am totally out of control!"   There was no hope left.   "I wonder: what he is thinking?"

"Do you think wondering what he is thinking is more important than working through what you are thinking?"

How many times have I heard this? I need a fix, damn it! A magic cure! Do it, shrink. Earn your money!

"I am paying you 90 an hour for this? I'm a co-dependant! I obsess about what he is thinking! You told me so yourself. Don't ask me dumb trite questions like I'm a 4 year old."

"Do you feel like a 4 year old?"

"Jesus!"   (hmmm... , I thought, don't blast her yet.. Do I feel terrified and empty and unloved and irrational? Like a child? I know this is a terrible relationship and yet all I want on the entire earth is for that uncaring, cruel, unreliable, nasty asshole to be here right now so I won't won't be terrified, just like a 4 year old might feel? I DO feel like a 4 year old!) I sighed, hating for her to be right.  "Yes. It sucks."

"But you are in your 40's." Thank you for making me feel like a total loser.  "That must be very hurtful. Have you felt this way,, have you gotten into this situation... have you felt such pain..."

"I've been seeing you for ten years! You act like I just met you yesterday!"

She looked up, slightly amused. "I want to hear you say it." She explained.

"Every single time I have to break off with someone or they break with me, I know it was the worst relationship earth for me because I always choose those. But, I go through torture. I hate torture! Remember Jeff 3? That.."

"No, no, no, stay where you are."

"I can't concentrate, I can't have a normal conversation, I can't function, It's like I have no insides. And I want them back!"

"So, are you going too go back to him to relieve all that? I mean, I can understand that. I really can."

"I just drive around hoping to run into him." How could this be? It was the truth, though.

"I hate myself, sometimes." I hadn't said that out loud before.

She stood up, came over to my chair and leaned down right at eye level. "You just might. That's the saddest thing you have ever told me."

I had to learn not to talk so much. Its hard to take words back. This was getting way too serious. Next she'd make me go to the hospital or something. I squirmed around.

"What, don't any of your other patients have problems? You're making me feel like a freak! 

Hey, you had to get to this point, not me. I'm not making you feel anything you don't feel."
She stood up, backing away from my chair, and sat back down in hers. I saw the dreaded quick glimpse ...tick tock.

"Time's almost up." Her curt voice now.

"Your clock is fast."

"The only thing you have to do today is walk for an hour and write for an hour."

"I can't believe this took you ten years and nothing is better."

"You, it took you ten years. And you are better. You know. You can do this. The pain is worse because you know what it is doing to you -- these repeated acts." She stopped. Then for the first time, her voice held some emotion as if to say (I know what she was saying, 'I can't save you; I can only give you the tools)  "Don't slide backwards." 

"But what if I do? I know I will." 

"You don't think you have a choice? that's rather infantile, don't you think?"

Yes, it was.

"IN fact, I have to do this. It's time. If you text hem, call him, chase him down, see him, our professional relationship is terminated. You have to do the word here." Her eyes glanced at the door. I got up, mumbled good-bye and left her office.

"In fact, I have to draw a line. If you text him, chase him, call him, anything? We will be done."

Wow! That came as a shock.

"He'll be so mad! I love that!"

She gave me this look.

"Kidding." I told her. And for the first time, I was.