60 minutes on the clock
It was one of those days when I was trying to push through the physical pain I was in. I was washing dishes feeling defeated and alone. I was looking for a place to put all the emotions flooding me and I thought of my therapist. A pillar in my life that I have allowed to witness my weakest moments. A woman who I don't run from when I’m struggling, a woman who knows the rawest version of me. A relationship where I allow myself to fully emote, to express my off-the-wall thoughts. A safe space where I let myself talk about my physical pains without fear of judgment or burden. I realized that in wanting a moment of connection and compassion, I thought of a woman whom I pay for support.
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My therapist was recently away for over a month. During that time I started a piece, Thoughts for My Therapist. I wrote all the complicated, fragmented thoughts, and heavy feelings that came to me. In her absence, writing as if we were still in conversation allowed me to continue to feel some level of grounding.
I was nervous to see her again but so ready to release and expose the messiness. I was eager to welcome her soothing tone into the parts of my brain that I reserve for therapy.
So 5 minutes before our session, I was surprised to find myself thinking that we should stop working together. I convinced myself in a matter of minutes that we should end this. I thought to myself, I don’t need therapy, I don’t have anything to talk about. And that's how I started our session. "I was thinking we should stop working together."
She stared at me, letting silence breathe between us. "Why is that?" she asked me with a smirk.
"I don't need this. There is someone else who needs this time much more than I do. I don't have any real trauma. I'm sure there is something better you can be doing with your time."
She laughed and politely asked me to let her worry about how she uses her time.
We spent the next hour analyzing. She guided me to realize that this desire to close the door on her is part of the relational template I’m accustomed to. We journeyed into the root of that —> emotional neglect and how it's manifested in my day-to-day life —> hyper-independence. It's that thing that makes me go dark on friends when I'm struggling with something, the thing that pushes romantic connection away. It’s the root of why leaning into a community is challenging for me.
She reminded me that wanting to end therapy is an example of why I am in therapy. I’m here to learn how to accept that I am worthy of emoting just as much as the people I support in their times of need. To learn how to acknowledge feelings and share them. To practice depending on someone without fear of abandonment, neglect, or judgment. “I’m here for you, V.”
And then...60 minutes on the clock. Our session was over.
"Ok then. Let’s wrap for today," she said.
There it was. That subtle reminder that this corner of the universe that feels so supportive, this relationship that seems so genuine is really just a transaction. The deepest emotional intimacy I allow in my life is a service I pay for.
Good Reads
Sweet, Soft, Plenty Rhythm: A Novel. I know I’ve found a good book when I find myself thinking about the characters as I go through my day. A soulful and gripping story of passion and risk, fathers and daughters, wives and single women, and finally hope and reconciliation, in answer to the age-old question: how do we find belonging when love is unrequited?"
A forty-year-old Boston-based trumpet player and old-school ladies man, lives for his music, and refuses to be tied down. Before a gig in Miami, he learns that the woman who is secretly closest to his heart, the free-spirited drummer Maggie, is pregnant by him. He flees instead of facing the necessary conversation, setting off a chain of interlocking revelations from the various women in his life. Most notable among them is his teenage daughter Koko, who idolizes him; she's awakening to her own sexuality even as her mentally fragile mother struggles to overcome her long failed marriage and rejection by Circus.