obsessing the uncomfortable

So an incident happened last week, with the psych. I was late, and had run over from the carpark in my gumboots, so was a bit hyped.  I was also feeling a little manic anyway, among other things. It was the second session and I just wanted to get into it  and wasn’t sure where we were going, so if someone is a bit slow, well I just take over! We all already know that about me, I guess he didn’t! He was a bit, I guess, overwhelmed? He gave the metaphor of the runaway train, and where are we going, and then almost angrily – “what happened to getting to know each other?” and I just felt icky all week about it. It’s one of those sore points, I HATE that about me that I just blurt it all out.  That’s me, no mask, the run away train, and while I was exposed he rejected me, which hurt.

We don’t get to know each other. He’s not my friend, neither am I his. I pay him $120 an hour to talk with me, so the social rules are different. I don’t do small talk well at the best of times,  I was late, so I felt like “quick, lets get to the point of the session.” If he needs a moment to settle in, then he should ask the inane questions -“what have you watched on telly this week?” or whatever cause I’m not going to do it! It’s a counseling session, of course there’s an agenda, a goal – he just didn’t tell me what it was.  It felt like he was implying a lack of care and compassion on my part for his feelings, which was a little unfair. I didn’t mean to do that, I like to choose whether or not I hurt someone. So I think I’ll tell him that if he is overwhelmed, don’t react with anger at me, just tell me gently, because the runaway train is an unpleasant but real part of me and  is a bit vulnerable to rough criticism.

I am precious, I am special. He is so lucky to work with me, to plumb my depths and be given the opportunity to create something beautiful out of the chaos there. I’m real enough to have no masks, I don’t lie,  and I’m more than 100% willing to make hard decisions. But they are delicate materials and need to be treated as such. I guess I won’t expose that again for a while,  I need to protect that part of me.

He was so pleased when I expressed with great emotion how  H doesn’t have any idea what unfair is, because I was being real. All that I have been there, is real, there hasn’t been anything false. Tears are no more real expression of myself than the runaway train or my body language. I can pull back, but that’s not fair for me.


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