holding it together as I journey through therapy – a personal account of what it's like to be in long-term psychotherapy navigating the healing of C-PTSD, childhood trauma and neglect, an eating disorder, self-harming behaviours, as well as giving grief and cancer an occasional nod.
Last year Elle and I were talking about when things have gone wrong in my therapies (there’s plenty of content there and we visit it regularly!) and situations where a client might choose to ‘end’ and not come back to therapy but it feels somehow unexpected or not the ‘natural end’. I was in one of those sensible adult places, not activated (!), and so able to express some of what goes on for me when the wheels feel like they are falling off in the therapeutic relationship and how panicked I get. I recognise that sometimes the reasons I bolt for the door (sometimes literally) are often not what appears to be happening on the surface in the moment.
What can seem like a very small trigger can send me totally spiralling…but then that’s hardly surprising when we look at this through a Complex Trauma lens, or the fact that I have tonne of parts who are all processing stuff in their own ways – many of which are not particularly sophisticated! Of course, my four-year-old self and teen parts don’t see things the same way my adult self does, nor have they the skills to manage things in the way that my adult does. You’d think I’d be ok, though, seeing as I have a really fucking competent adult self. The problem is, my system is complicated, has the capacity to hijack me, and I am really really good at dissociating. Adult self is rarely there when I need her when I am freaking out.
Let’s face it – what scares me (all of me) more than anything is broken connection, feeling like the attachment is severed, and that I am on the verge of being abandoned. This is not at all surprising given my history because there was a time when disconnection really was a life-or-death situation. My mother’s PND did nothing for my little baby self or my developing nervous system and I have spent so much of my life in survival because my caregivers have never been reliable.
It’s hardly surprising that when I feel like the relationship with Elle (or A or Em…) is headed towards a cliff edge I am the first to run away. I am the absolute queen of ‘leave before I get left’ which is why I absolutely need my therapist to know this pattern and make sure I don’t bolt and disappear when there is a rupture (even if from their side it might seem small, repairable, or can wait). Ruptures can feel catastrophic to my system these days because … well… there have been ruptures where I have been hurt really badly and basically been abandoned and rejected because of my responses. Think of Em. My reaction to being called a tick, calling her out on it, and running scared didn’t see her try hard to meet me in it, to apologise, to understand why I was terrified, she just saw it as a perfect opportunity to let me go.
Anita was way better at handling ruptures… until her life collapsed around her ears and she couldn’t hold herself let alone anyone else. The damage from that ending is ongoing and painful. I feel so sad that in the two years since I last saw her, she hasn’t been able to step outside of her struggles and meet to end but that’s not what I am here to talk about today… although it definitely fed into the intensity of the panic I have felt with Elle during our recent rupture.
So, what’s this post all about?
This is a pre-curser post to help understand a bit of what happened in the most recent rupture with Elle (i.e when I brought it to her attention). Because yes. I got myself in a mess. A big one. And I ended up sending her this message:
I don’t want to see you anymore.
You can only imagine what sort of a state I had got myself into to send that. Eek. Like, I am the person will ALL THE WORDS… not none!
I’m almost done writing that post – and it’ll be up soon. But suffice to say it’s been a wild ride.
I am glad, then, that over the time I have been working with Elle, I have given her pieces of the map of me so that she has been able to understand me better and figure out what I need.
Most of the time I probably appear pretty together when I see her despite the crap that keeps hitting my day-to-day life. I probably seem a bit wounded and in need of support for my little parts but also seem generally functional. Sometimes I am a bit closed off but I am present in the room rather than off in space dissociated. The completely derailed, panicked, reactive, scared stiff self hasn’t really made it to the room (she’s done some emailing though!) – or if she has, she’s not been triggered BY ELLE. Elle has been a witness to the struggle and in support role in the room, not the trigger. It’s only this last month that Elle has had to misfortune of meeting that part of me in person.
Anyway, back to last year. I was testing the water with Elle knowing that it was only ever going to be a matter of time before something triggered my runners and protectors and I needed to know how she would respond if I unexpectedly disappeared. We all know that there are those diehard therapists who will say “I respect client autonomy, and if they choose to leave that’s their choice and I will not contact them thereafter. It’s up to them to contact me should they want to resume therapy.”
Puke.
Honestly, this kind of therapist really annoys me more than anything. If that’s your stance as a therapist then you absolutely should not be working with C-PTSD or people with multi-part systems. This ‘in the service of the client’s autonomy’ is bullshit. I’m not for one minute saying to beg and plead for a client to come back, that’s not realistic. But so often when we start running and slamming doors behind us, it’s not because we want to leave – it’s because we are scared! And we need for the adult, regulated nervous system (therapist) to remind us that we can come back, that we are wanted (even if we are having a tantrum and full of shame), and that they are committed to working through EVERYTHING with us even if it is HARD. Letting a triggered client disappear out the door is abandonment… it’s not kind.
And so, that day I asked Elle if she had ever made a mistake with a client that led to termination and what she did, or what she would do differently. Elle told me the about the biggest regret of her career was a time when she wasn’t as sensitive as she could have been with a client who kept cancelling last minute. She reached the point where she enacted her cancellation policy after several missed sessions – i.e charging for the session by sending an email, and the client left as a result – never came back in. Elle said she had failed to recognise potential wounding around money and still feels terrible to this day.
Mistakes and missteps happen, but what I wanted to know was what she did when the client said they were not coming back. Was she a ‘respect client’s autonomy and let them go’ therapist, or did she do something different?
Elle assured me that she had reached out and suggested that they meet in person but that the client didn’t want to come back, that there were some back and forth communications but that the client ended.
[For the record there was nothing identifying or specific – merely Elle’s feeling that she fucked up and had learnt a lot from that.]
I told her that I would always want her to reach out to me because it made me think about all the times I ran out of Anita’s and how when I am upset I can pull the plug (or parts of me can) and how it is really important to me that my therapist recognises when I am truly wanting to end and when I feel backed into a corner and feel like I need to leave because I can’t tolerate the feelings of disconnect etc.
Even though Elle was clear that she would always contact me in a rupture situation – my brain was whirring after the session and so I wrote her this letter at the time:
I was thinking about what you said yesterday, about the client that never came back – because of course that’s what my brain does at 3am when I can’t sleep and the anxiety is doing its thing. I actually had a lot of thoughts, like I can think of hundreds of reasons of why that all happened, but I am sure there’s nothing you haven’t thought about over the years so it’s not relevant.
However, what it did make me really think about was what would happen if something similar happened with us. You’ve probably figured out by now that I am not someone who cancels last minute and, generally speaking, if I did it would be because something was out of my control with the kids or something. But, actually, there are times when I get completely hijacked by my system and the “I don’t want to go” (it’s much bigger and more complicated than that) is really hard to get around.
Tbh it’s rarely an “I don’t want to go” because there is lots of me that absolutely does but it’s sometimes more of a “things feel very wrong, something is up, I’m scared that it’s all going to blow up, I don’t feel safe, I feel hurt, abandoned, rejected, maybe even angry… [on and on and on]…and so I need to protect myself from that and stay away – and she doesn’t care anyway so what’s the point?! It’s better to leave before I get left…”
I mean I totally get what happens, where it comes from, what parts of me are involved, and yet when it’s happening it is not always easy to sidestep it. It would be funny if it wasn’t so tragic but I guess at least there’s a really clear trajectory on how it all runs which I guess at least I am aware of now. And I see it a lot. Clients, for whatever reason, find it difficult to go to their therapy, maybe don’t show up, and might seem to be ghosting but actually it’s not because they don’t want to be there it’s because there is some kind of a rupture (that maybe the therapist has absolutely no clue about) and they, for whatever reason, can’t bring it to the room.
So many of us are conflict avoidant and even though bringing ‘big feelings’ shouldn’t be a problem, I guess most of our experiences have been that when we have, we’ve been mocked, or shamed, or abandoned, or gaslit…you know the deal… and so we’d rather not risk that repeating. I think sometimes, too, part of us knows that our reaction to whatever has been triggered is MUCH BIGGER than it ‘should’ be and so there’s shame and embarrassment there too because we feel completely derailed and it’s not even that big a deal (only it is a massive deal!).
I think it can be all the more unsettling for people that don’t really spend much time contemplating the therapeutic relationship and so when something between the therapist and client happens it’s hard to know what to do with it. Like it’s much easier to say, “I’m sorry, I’m sick” rather than, “I feel really anxious and something you said has really upset me” when they thought they were there to talk about their work stress and all of a sudden all this other shit is stirred up.
Sometimes it feels like a toddler or a teenager having a tantrum but actually I think that’s exactly what is happening – whatever is being triggered isn’t necessarily conscious and, in that moment, the adult self isn’t available enough to navigate the situation and all we know is that it just feels huge and insurmountable and overwhelming and completely in our bodies – and so the instinct is to run away and hide.
In some ways I think this can be really hard to manage because whatever is happening to stop a person turning up to therapy feels massive to them, and acting out can bring on all the massive feelings of shame and embarrassment afterwards and basically like you just want to crawl into a hole and die. It takes a lot to feel brave enough to come back and talk it through, and there has to be a strong enough sense that the person opposite you isn’t going to confirm everything that you fear is happening. It really is like with toddlers and teens. They need an adult to help them out of their meltdowns sometimes and an invitation back to work things out.
It is really complicated (but also not). I think when people don’t show up, rather than being flaky or disrespectful (I mean I guess there must be some people like that), is about testing whether the therapeutic relationship is strong or not. Like do you care enough to come find me if I disappear or will you just let me go? And I really get that this is complicated because all the training is like, ‘therapists should respect client autonomy’ and all the shit about not creating a dynamic that encourages ‘game playing’… only that is really pathologising and really makes it seem like everything that happens is down to us. It’s not game playing, it’s trying to protect ourselves.
As I said, lots of us have been hurt over the years and haven’t had the experience of managing conflict in a way that doesn’t somehow burn the house down and so rather than face a situation that potentially will hurt us more on top of whatever hurt feelings we are already feeling, we disappear. I think, for me at least, if I experience something as being abandoning or rejecting then it absolutely triggers the need to run away.
I’m not explaining this brilliantly well, and this is looooonnnggg, but I guess what I am trying to say is, if I cancelled last minute, or didn’t show up it’s not because I am rude, or don’t respect boundaries or whatever else – it’s because something is really wrong (from my side) and it feels too hard to come. If you just let me go and never contacted me to find out what was up or didn’t reach out and invite me to come and try and figure out what’s going on with you in person, actually what it confirms to me is probably everything I was running away from in the first place which is the feeling that you don’t care…
I’d like to think that a situation like this would never happen – but I also live in my head and experience often enough my runner ducks bolting. Just usually I have enough time to gather them back together before I see you.
Having a therapy go south in this way is sooooo common and causes such a lot of hurt to those involved. I have way too many stories – not just my own! – and I was wondering whether after the event a therapist reaching out would make any difference. And I think it would. An opportunity to talk through what happened when it’s not live would probably be really helpful because I think we tend to carry this shit around for a long time.
Anyway, that’s… a lot. I’ll try not to run away, but if I do, please come and find me. X
And so… I guess it was helpful that I sent that last year, because Elle did come and find me…and the session when we did get to meet was HUGE. I’ll get the ‘what happened next’ post up asap.
Today has been rotten. I’ve spent weeks trying very very hard to keep my chin up – or should I say, keep my nostrils above the shit soup that I have been neck, or even, mouth deep in for the longest time. I have painstakingly worked my way through the metaphorical ‘A-Z Book of Self Care’ – exhausting all my tools and strategies in an almost frenzied attempt to stave off sinking beneath the surface (again). I really don’t want to drown in the emotional cesspit!
My social media accounts look like I am living my absolute best life right now, but as we all know there’s often quite a distance between appearance and reality. My exterior looks one way (picture perfect), but I can tell you with complete confidence that my inner world is mired in the deepest, darkest shit right now. I have always been good at masking, though.
Knowing that Elle would be on a break right at the same time that all the anniversaries of Anita pulling the plug on my therapy two years ago has meant that May has been one hell of a messy month inside of me – my minibus has been renamed ‘The Struggle Bus’ and has some wicked looking decals on the side – not that anyone would know. I haven’t just wallowed in the ache and panic of it, though. I’m not lying when I say that I have been making herculean efforts to keep afloat. I have been trying to keep my life vest inflated by blowing into the little tube meanwhile pretending that I am not actually drowning…in shit. My friend said that perhaps I should start flashing the little light and blowing on the whistle…but I don’t want to disturb anyone. And who is going to want to rescue me from a huge vat of shit anyway?!
I took myself away this week, on my own and have been immersing myself in nature, living on my own timetable largely off the clock. I have tried to take out any of the stresses and strains that can leave me feeling overstimulated and overtired – and snappy, and on the verge of meltdown (!)… and it has been great, and I genuinely thought I had warded off the emotional disaster that felt inevitable with the break looming… but today I woke up and felt off. That familiar sense of painful ache and emptiness had rooted and the emotional dark cloud had firmly placed itself above my head.
Despite all the effort to avert the emotional crash it’s happened anyway. Of course it would. I walked 26km of coast path yesterday in an attempt to not end up where I am now (in my bed all day, in a freeze with the curtains closed feeling hopeless and sad). I thought that if I just kept moving, I would be ok. I kept finding a point on the path in the distance and walking to it, then finding another, and another, and before I knew if I was miles and miles from home.
I should know better by now than to try and outrun (walk) something that lives inside me. I can’t run away from my parts and my pain. Sometimes it feels like I live with pieces of shrapnel inside and have learnt to move and bend in particular ways in order to try and avoid the worst of the hurt. Most of the time I am successful. Unless of course I trip and jerk in an unexpected movement and then … OUCH!
And that’s what’s happened today.
Again.
I probably should have made more of an effort to let Elle know what was going on inside me in the two sessions before she left. I have a children’s book called ‘A Shelter For Sadness’ that I read once with Anita. When I got ‘the box’ back from her in December it was the one I picked to show Elle. It’s lovely and talks about making different spaces to house Sadness (or I guess, this expands to whatever other feelings you need to hold). To be honest, I think the sessions before a break need to be all about creating not only a shelter for sadness but for all the little parts that struggle so much. I need a youth hostel!
Sounds like a good idea, doesn’t it?
It would be if ‘False Adult’ hadn’t been fronting quite a bit. There’s also been another active protector part – probably a slightly ‘low volume’ version of the ‘Inner Critic’ piping up here and there warning me not to be “too needy” or “too honest” about how things feel for fear of being “too much”. The very last thing I want to happen is have another therapist go off on their holiday and then decide that I am too much like hard work and terminate when they come back.
The thing is I don’t help myself at all by avoiding saying, “The idea of you being gone is really unsettling me” or “I really need for us to do some focussed work before your break with the little parts” or “I might turn up and be adult but the reality is the young parts need stories and cuddles before you go” or “I hate to be like this but can you give me some kind of tangible reassurance that we are ok because my system is in freefall” or “Can we maybe organise a check in later in the week so that it cuts down the break a bit?” or “I am swimming in shame right now and feel so untethered. Can you tell me how you are feeling right now about me so I don’t create stories in my head when you are gone?” or “Can you remind me that just because Anita left at this time of year that you aren’t going to, too?” or “Can you write me a note for when you are away that I can open in our usual session time to keep connected?”…. You know… any of the things…but I know why I do.
I don’t want to be ‘that client’ even if I am so totally ‘THAT CLIENT’. So instead, I spent the last couple of sessions before the break wittering on about my day-to-day (which to be fair is full of serious shit as well). I felt like I wasn’t even in the room for the very last session before Elle left and I went away feeling really sad and disconnected which is never the ideal situation to be in when there’s two weeks between sessions.
I know it is a tendency of mine to emotionally check out as a kind of protective measure before a break. You know, leave before you get left. It wouldn’t have been obvious to Elle. I looked ‘there’ enough. But I think actually I was dissociated – or parts of me certainly were.
So yeah, May has been tough for the most part.
But it’s especially tough today.
I started to feel myself edging towards the shame slide on Thursday night thinking about how hard I struggle with separation and how it ALWAYS feels like a rejection or abandonment. I feel embarrassed about having given something to Elle before she’s gone away that on one level, I think is really thoughtful and shows exactly how important she is to me…but then as time has gone on I wonder if it’s too much? Like, get in your lane RB and remember that you are just a therapy client. And with that has come that painful reminder of the time I gave Em a copy of ‘The Velveteen Rabbit’ and a glass snowflake for Christmas and she basically rejected them telling me that I paid her for her time and that’s enough.
I sent Elle a short message about feeling ashamed but not why I was feeling that way or any detail at all and she reminded me to stay off that “slippery slip”. But it’s not that easy, is it?
You may be wondering how any of what I am saying has any bearing on the title of this blog post?
I don’t know how to get this out to be honest because it’s swirling in my mind and nothing has landed yet.
But I suppose the thing about breaks is it’s another reality check that therapy is just therapy and we are our therapist’s work. Nothing more than that.
One of the things I struggle such a lot with is the authenticity of the therapeutic relationship. Like it’s so hard to settle in the space that is, “my therapist genuinely cares…but it is a paid-for relationship”. I think that is especially the case for those of us with early trauma and attachment issues…and *all the things*!
I would hazard to say that most of us would rather not be perpetually reminded of the fact that the relationship we have with our therapist only exists if we can pay for it, and the moment that we can’t we’re out the door (this has been very present in my mind since my wife is out of work and finances are an absolute disaster). Or that in reality the relationship as we know it only really exists for that hour or two each week. Outside that, you’re on your own – and we need to be soooo careful about hitting the concrete walls of boundaries we don’t know about outside that time don’t we?
Like who doesn’t love, “If I didn’t care about you, I wouldn’t be working with you…but I will not respond to or even read your emails and should you choose to contact me in that way you are deliberately walking yourself into rejection and pushing boundaries…” Cheers Em. It was very hard to believe that she saw me as anything other than someone who reliably showed up every week and handed over money. She never wanted to enter into the ‘us’ of the therapeutic relationship and I felt horrible all the time.
I guess some people find the transactional nature of therapy easier than others. I mean, sure, if you are going to talk through work stress, or getting divorced or whatever – I am sure it’s no problem at all to have the ongoing reminders that your weekly session is an ‘appointment’ because perhaps the sessions are less about the relationship with the therapist and more about what needs immediately fixing in the world outside the room. I know people who think of their therapy sessions in the same way that they think about going to the GP or the dentist… but Elle doesn’t occupy that zone in my head at all…and I know a lot of the people that read this blog don’t think of their therapists like this either.
Get to the fucking point RB!
So… I guess what I am trying to say, and have said it in so many different ways over the years, is that I am not stupid: I know my therapist is my therapist. I know my relationship with Elle is a paid-for relationship. I know she is not my friend. I know that there are clear boundaries around our relationship. I know that although she’s supportive, she’s not there at 3am to call when I wake from yet another nightmare feeling panicked and like I want to give up on life altogether. I know that she sees other clients. I know that as much as I would like to be ‘special’ to her, that I am just one of many people she sees, and in fact – my experience would tell me that when it comes down to it, I am not one of those clients that therapists want to hang onto. I am one of the first to be chopped when things are hard.
But you know what?
I know it, but I don’t need reminding of it.
It’s there all the time.
That doesn’t mean I am in denial. That doesn’t mean I hope that one day our relationship will be something different than it is now. It doesn’t mean that I am living in some kind of fantasy about the therapy being anything other than therapy. I am not hiding from reality.
The parts of me that want to feel safe, and loved, and like I matter are constantly aware of exactly what therapy is and what it is not. I know I am a client. But forgive me if I don’t want it ramming down my throat.
And yes, I’ll be the first to put my hands up and say that I find it hard navigating the therapeutic relationship… I mean, this blog shows that doesn’t it?! And I absolutely do get triggered by things that maybe I shouldn’t. Well, ‘shouldn’t’ is bollocks anyway…because my experience is my experience. But I can’t believe that I am in unusual in feeling how I do, in reacting how I do to certain kinds of communication. I bet, actually a lot of people have a response but feel too embarrassed or ashamed to even bring it up. Sometimes it feels easier to keep quiet and move on through triggers alone than let our therapist see how ‘small things’ can really ‘hurt a lot’.
I did absolutely find the weekly automated texts from Elle reminding me of my session time painful – for lots of reasons. I don’t think that impersonal communications are easy to metabolise for the parts of us that aren’t ‘adult’. I have C-PTSD – and structural dissociation with a system of at least nine parts so is it really surprising that my four-year-old self feels upset when ‘the Elle that she knows’ sends group emails ‘to all clients’ when she has no idea what ‘a client’ even is when she is used to being referred to with more affectionate terms. It’s jarring.
The other thing is: I DO NOT NEED REMINDING OF MY SESSION TIME … because I am pathetic counting down to 12 o’ clock on a Tuesday from the moment I leave the room and by Friday I am really struggling. Having what felt like a sterile and cold message on a Monday morning when I was so far away from a state of connectedness was just endlessly triggering. That doesn’t mean I don’t know that I am a client. It just means that my system needs something different. And you know what? That brings up so much shame and embarrassment for me.
I spend so much of my time second-guessing what is ‘real’ and what isn’t in the therapeutic relationship. I want to feel like the relationship I have with Elle means something to her too when it means such a lot to me. I don’t want to feel like I am on her conveyor belt of people to see. I don’t want to be reminded that I am on a conveyor belt at all – even though I know it completely and feel it all the time.
That doesn’t mean I have a sense of grandiosity or that I feel like I am more important than other clients, or that I am not ‘a client’. In fact, it is the very opposite. I hate group emails and impersonal communication because my self-esteem is so low that being reminded that I am just ‘one of many clients’ directly taps into the recent trauma with Anita ending our long-term work. I couldn’t even pay her to stay. She chose to keep other people on and not me. I don’t think Elle understands what that rejection has done to me and how hard it is to trust in her and how much of myself I hold back or keep out the room because of what happened with A.
I feel like I have never been enough for people to stay. Or to care.
The person that should have loved me no matter what (my mother) has happily disappeared from my life again, too. Although the abandonment started young of course…
So with all this in mind, knowing why I am in therapy at all, is it any wonder then that I don’t want to be reminded that I am just a client? Is it so very wrong of me to want a place and a person that feels safe and where I feel like I matter? Is it wrong to want to believe that someone might actually care just because I am enough as I am? Is it wrong to want to feel like the person sitting with me might just love me not just despite my flaws but because of them? It’s scary being seen but therapy is sometimes the only place where that truly happens.
I thought Elle of all people would understand this.
Although, I’m not sure now.
I always imagined that if she was struggling with something between us, she would tell me first…or you know, take it to supervision and then come to me. But imagine my horror to discover a post in an online therapist forum by her (albeit under a pseudonym – but it is most definitely her from other comments and posts) that talks about a client that has issues being reminded they’re a client and asking advice.
The original post has been deleted – but the comments from other therapists and her replies that are attached to it are still there – and you can imagine how reading a string of thirty comments about yourself and what might be ‘wrong’ with you feels. And I can infer enough from those that she doesn’t know what to do to handle it delicately because I have a total emotional shutdown in our next session any time she sends something formal or automated or a change in office hours (that last one really upset me because the reason I got upset at Christmas when we couldn’t see each other on Christmas Eve wasn’t just a change in office hours – it was so much more than that). And there’s a reference to something that she can only have read in a blog post of mine because I never shared it with her directly but actually – she’s misread that too – she said I was angry about something A did in communication – it wasn’t that AT ALL. What I was feeling was scared.
One of the horrible side effects of developmental and relational trauma is hypervigilance. I have always had to carefully watch for change in people because so often there was a form of abuse coming with change. One minute things would be fine enough and then all of a sudden the wind would change and it was fucking terrifying. You get really good at ‘noticing’ when you are scaredall the time. A simple shift in tone of voice, body language or whatever could often be the signal to get out of the way in order to not be hurt. But then there was also the stuff around silent treatment as punishment and I think sometimes more formal/sterile communications can feel like a withdrawing of warmth (and therefore care). It’s complex. But has absolutely fuck all to do with my not wanting to be reminded that I am in therapy and a client.
I am so hypervigilant, though. I notice everything. So of course if I get some kind of written communication that feels very different to what I am used to experiencing with someone my brain is scanning for meaning in that. I would love for my brain to be able to switch into, “this is just admin, everything is fine” but that’s not how it works. It starts with stories about how “something must have changed” or “watch out because something bad is going to happen”. And it’s not as though there isn’t evidence for this bad stuff happening. I’m not stuck in old patterns and unable to make a leap into the here and now, because the reality is, not all that long ago my sense of things being off wasn’t wrong…despite Anita’s protesting otherwise…and the next thing I knew I was dumped. So yeah. I do worry when there is inconsistency and that isn’t because I don’t want to be reminded that I am client, it’s because I am terrified that change means abandonment or rejection.
I just don’t understand how someone who is so big on authenticity and honest communication and you know all the Brene Brown stuff about being vulnerable and open has chosen to go online to figure this stuff out rather than come to me directly because I thought by now we had a strong enough relationship to have those conversations.
The irony is not lost on me that this is exactly what I am doing now! Running into the safety of the online world rather than reaching out. But I am the client… or capitalise that… CLIENT… you know, the thing I don’t want to be reminded about – and she is the therapist – the therapist who is currently away on a break. I am just a client who will not bring this up in an email right now (even though it’s really knocked me for six) and will hold onto it for as long as I can because I respect the fact that she is on holiday from her job – which is me – and therefore this ‘work’ can wait. But hey, I have problems with being reminded I am a client. Like, seriously, please do fuck off.
So, I have felt hurt today…and also maybe a bit angry it seems based on that last line.
This probably sounds so much worse than it is. There is nothing ‘identifying’ about me (in the real world) in that post or in some of the other comments elsewhere that reference how we work. But I can identify myself clearly from them and so, it seems, could someone else who has been following my blog in the background for years and thought that they recognised me through one of Elle’s descriptions of how she works with a particular client on another post – such a small world – ugh. That person clicked through Elle’s posts and was able to join enough dots from stuff I have said about me that they thought they should reach out to me and let me know that they thought they could identify me via what my therapist had posted – albeit still in an anonymous way. Ugh.
So of course I checked this out. And this is when I came across the stuff about not wanting to be reminded of being a client. Elle would never for one minute think that I would have found this stuff but I think she underestimates my ability to take very small snippets of information and make links – or it seems, for readers of mine to… she ought to , though, because I know she is the same with this kind of thing. Neither one of us is not very familiar with the online world. This is why I stay away from forums generally, there’s so much crossover and I don’t want chance encounters (well not like this)! I do also get that the reason I was identifiable is because of what I’ve written on the blog…so it’s not straightforward.
So, yeah, this is utterly fucking rubbish isn’t it?! I so wish that when this happened a couple of months ago, she’d have said to me, “RB, last session you were really shutdown but you didn’t tell me why and hardly talked – you just snuggled into me and cried. I sometimes read your blog when you seem far away and shutdown to give a me a clue of what’s going on for you because you said from the start that I could have access to your blog before we even started working together and often you send posts to me. I know that you found the automated texts hard a while back and we’ve changed that, but then I see from your post that the email I sent about fee increase has been triggering too but not because of the money – which is often what people feel upset by. Do you think we might be able to talk about this together?”
Like, please please Elle – come to me before you head out online for advice…because although I can’t read exactly what you posted originally, surely – surely by now you know me enough to know that I am not some delusional fucking freak who has no grip on reality. The thing is, because I only have what I can see to go on, the story I am telling myself is exactly that – and not only that, but that you find me hard work, that I am in some way problematic, that how I react sometimes is too much and that I am making you feel uncomfortable and that there is a big problem you don’t know how to solve, and probably too that you don’t really even like me very much. It’s basically activated my Inner Critic and given it a megaphone.
As a result I am completely triggered and stressed and worried that history is going to repeat itself and you’ll decide that I am a pain in the arse and get rid of me because I can already see how this could land. And that hurts such a lot because I trusted you with me and this just feels like a massive betrayal of that trust. But not only that, there’s a part of me that now feels like I need to go into hiding – because obviously my reactions to some things are extreme and that is a horrible place to inhabit…albeit really familiar.
I just want my 90 minutes a week to feel important, and protected, and safe, and like I actually have some sort of value even if I have to pay for that and that I don’t have to think about anyone else and can be in the moment just with you. And I am sorry that I struggle when faced with the stark difference between the warm person I see each week who sends me really lovely emails and holds me so carefully and the one who is running a ‘business’. But sure. It’s me, hi, I’m the problem it’s me... because it always is a me problem.
It seems kind of cruel that this had to all happen today on the anniversary of the day that Anita dropped the bombshell that she needed to end with me – and when it’s fucking ages until the break is over…but it’s my own fault. I should never have gone down the rabbit hole in the first place. But it was that thing, feeling far away, disconnected, sad, lost, and looking for a sense of the person I think I know…and finding the person I think I know…but also not.
All I am hoping for now, really, is that I don’t get myself so worked up between now and the 27th that I end up backing so far away that there’s no going back. A triggered system left in freefall is never a good combination.
I think the best thing I can do is retreat into myself and try very hard not to catastrophise…
It’s hard to believe that it’s two years since the Anita that I knew and loved was last properly in the room with me. It’s two years this weekend since you went off on your holiday for your birthday, full of reassurances, telling me that “nothing will change” and that you would be “coming back” and that you “love(d) me very much”. Little did I know, then, what would happen to us barely two weeks later. Little did I know you’d never properly come back to me. Had I have known you would pull the plug on us, on me, I would have made more of an effort to take in those last moments of feeling (relatively) safe and held.
I would have taken so many mental pictures of the room, and of you, and tried so much harder to commit the feelings of connection and safety to memory so that I could refer back to them and use them to soothe all the hurting parts of me later down the line. I would have breathed your familiar smell in, carefully listened for your slow, steady heartbeat all the while soaking up every last second of feeling safe in the moment because I can count on one hand the times that I have managed to settle my nervous system since we ended.
Having said that, I think it’s actually all the memories of the connected moments that now hurt me the most. I find it so difficult to sit in this place where I know what we had, how it felt, how you made me feel…and to now be here – it’s all gone… Of course, I have so much of ‘us’ evidenced in my writing and in voice recordings as ‘proof’ but I can’t bear to read back over my blogs or listen to our sessions anymore.
It hurts, too, that the tangible items that you gave me, gifts and transitional objects, now only bring me pain. On the one hand they serve as evidence that we really did exist for a moment in time, well three-and-a half years, but on the other hand that no matter how much “love and care” there was, it wasn’t enough to make you stay. We don’t exist in the here and now and it breaks my heart.
Sometimes I wonder if there was anything I could have said or done differently in those last sessions before your holiday? Could I have said something to pull at your heart enough so that you wouldn’t have ever considered leaving me in the first place? It’s hard to know. I spent months saying ‘less’ and hiding myself away, trying to give you space for fear of being too much because I knew that you weren’t well and things were hard in your personal life…as it was I ended up being “too much” and “not enough” all at the same time regardless of my best efforts to behave in the right way.
When you came back from your trip you were not the same Anita. From the moment I walked in the door I knew something was wrong and it took less than five minutes for you to say, “I’m going to have to bring the counselling with you to an end” and that you were ending with all your “long-term clients”. It’s funny. It’s so much easier to say “counselling” rather than “relationship” and for you to refer to me now as a “client” rather than “RB”. It’s easier to say “I need to cut the stressout of my life” rather than “I am cuttingyoufrom my life.”
For someone with the kind of wounding I have, and the issues around rejection and abandonment I struggle with, the way you handled our ending…or should I say ‘not ending’ (?!) couldn’t have been worse.
The day you told me we needed to end, you broke down, there was a complete role reversal, and you even said, “This is meant to be your session not mine.” And yet, I still paid you for it – and for all of those ridiculous sessions where my heart was basically being emotionally stomped all over in hobnail boots.
I focused on trying to save you (not for the first time), because if I could rescue you then it would mean I would be saved too. At the end of that first bomb-drop session, you shifted and said that we would, “find a way to connect” and that we would “figure something out.” I left devastated but somewhat hopeful because this back and forth with you wasn’t completely new territory for me.
Looking back over the last eight or so months of our time together, there was such a lot of push/pull and it wasn’t coming only from my end. I absolutely have a wonky brain, and things get messy, but there is generally a trigger. One minute I was “too dependent” and the next you’d tell me that you “love” me “such a lot.” It’s weird being someone’s “stress” but also being “so important” to them. It’s no wonder I got more and more panicked, and more and more clingy because things weren’t really safe, were they? – I wasn’t imagining it, even though you tried to tell me it was all in my head and that you “hadn’t changed”.
You said so many times in those weeks, “This isn’t what I want” but it was you who made this happen. You chose to cast me adrift and yet keep working with your other clients even if it was because you couldn’t “afford not to work”. I will never ever be ok with that. No matter how many angles I come at this from, and no matter how much benefit of the doubt I want to give you, I can’t let that go. You chose to sever our connection and chose to maintain others. It doesn’t make sense to me. I get that different clients demand different things from you but I just don’t understand how if anything you ever said to me was true that you would do this to me…and to others like me.
You wax lyrical about the importance of ethical practice but I am struggling hard to find anything ethical in how this all went down. At the very least, surely you would ensure that the clients that you were letting go were safe, and had someone else to go to. Like what on earth were you and your supervisor doing when all this was happening? You must have been speaking with her throughout this car crash time. Surely, there’s a fundamental understanding that you, as a therapist, safeguard your vulnerable clients – I mean you do understand complex trauma, don’t you?
And on a human level…well, on a human level you just do better.
Perhaps I am just too sensitive. Maybe I care too much. I have always worn my heart on my sleeve and this has proven to be both a blessing and a curse. But I sure as hell know that if I had hurt someone in the way that you have hurt me that I couldn’t just let it go. I couldn’t just bury my avoidant head in the sand and pray that when I came up for air that everything had gone away. I would have to try and make amends even if the other party didn’t want to hear it. Like how can you sit in your therapy room week in, week out and not be perpetually reminded of what you have done? Are you really able to just blank it all from your mind? – I just don’t know how you possibly could.
I think this is partly why, now, even two years later I am struggling to let the last bit of hope of you go. There’s a little bit of me that wonders if one day you’d try and repair because this isn’t how we treat people we love is it? Surely, somewhere in you there is a part that wants a proper resolution, a proper goodbye, to know that you have repaired some of the harm you’ve done…because that’s what I would want if it were me.
I know that is really only the hope of a little part that thinks you might come back, the one that trusts and always wants to see the best in people…and ultimately the one that always gets so very badly hurt. It’s certainly not my adult self, because there is no way on earth I’d let you near my poor vulnerable heart ever again. Even if you did muster up an apology that acknowledged and reflected the magnitude of the damage that you did to me, I could never trust you again and I think I would even struggle to accept an apology now. I no longer respect you. In fact, I think you are pretty dangerous.
I know too, that I cannot continue to judge your actions and behaviour by my standards. You are not me. And whilst I couldn’t do what you’ve done to me and your other poor clients…you clearly aren’t bothered by your conduct. You probably now just notch it up to having burnt out and “stress” so of course you weren’t at your best…but that doesn’t mean you aren’t responsible for what you did and the harm you caused…it just gives you a sense of justification for it.
I have spent years and years waiting for people to change and do better – but the thing is, people rarely change. It’s a good thing then, that the majority of my system has, not exactly let you go, or moved on, but there’s some thick scar tissue forming where that open wound was. I’ve protected myself from what’s happened – to an extent. I don’t long for you anymore. I don’t look for you out in the world. In fact, if I were to come across you now, I imagine I would walk the other way and avoid meeting you because really, what is there to say?
It’s done now. You’ve moved so far past it and our relationship. You’re still working. You’re still advertising that you work with trauma and on a long-term basis. None of the things you said about moving to “couples work” or “online work only” and “no more trauma clients” are remotely true. And I think maybe that’s one of the hardest parts. The lies. Like why bother? It hasn’t protected me any. It hasn’t made it easier. All it’s done is make me question everything about what I thought to be true between you and me.
And where am I left in all this? Well, it’s two years on and I am still hurting – although not like I was. Anniversaries – or should I say ‘traumaversaries’ are rough. I hate the fact that once again I am super aware of dates and how they correspond to our relationship disintegrating.
I hate the fact that I have been a depressed, frozen, dissociative wreck all week.
I hate that once again I am left trying to process all this by writing you a letter that you will never see.
I hate that I will spend the next month struggling hard to keep my head above water as the various anniversaries of aspects of our final month together unfold.
I especially hate that the emotional upset is already making its way into my relationship with my therapist Elle. I am scared stiff that something bad is going to happen between us because I am hard-wired to look for problems and the slightest sense of something being ‘off’ feels completely catastrophic – and it’s not fair.
Elle is going to be away in May right at the time that it was all unravelling with me and you… it couldn’t be worse timing. She did ought to be able to go away without my wheels falling off… and yet there seems to be almost an inevitability that the shit will hit the fan this month. I get that I should be able to circumnavigate that, but when all my system is activated it’s so much harder to hang onto any sense of safety.
Part of me is so angry about all this. I am mad that two years down the line I am still trying to undo the damage that you have done. And I am mad that I’ve basically spent the last five years trying to heal from failed therapeutic relationships on top of the original traumas I came into therapy for.
So, happy birthday Anita, I’m sure you will have a wonderful time… I hope you choke on your cake and the candles set fire to the table cloth! See… I don’t even mean it. I really want to but the truth is, I still wish you nothing but love and happiness because as much as I wish I didn’t, I still love you. x
Can I start yet another blog post with, ‘well fuck’? Because WELL, FUCK!… FUCK ME!… You just can’t make this shit up. I’d love to say that this blog was a fictionalised version of an imagined experience of therapy with serious levels of embellishment to make it all the more appealing to the reader…but it’s not. It’s just the sodding truth of what ‘therapy’ can look like and an insight into how some therapists ‘work’ and the untold damage that they can do. *Not Elle, she’s great (thank goodness).
At this point I feel like Anita is the equivalent of a drunk driver in charge of an ambulance. She’s ‘driving’ whilst on her phone or half-asleep, not paying attention, and is veering all over the shop. The rear doors keep opening and closing at intervals and people keep tumbling out onto the road, sustaining further injuries, but she doesn’t care or even notice. Instead, she continues speeding along the road totally oblivious to the carnage she’s left in her wake, believing all the while that she’s doing a sterling job.
There’s a reason that paramedics work in teams (for the safety of the patient!), but Anita is seemingly operating as a one-man band and her co-pilot is actually a magic fairy that lives up in the Shetland Isles! I imagine her co-pilot fairy has little idea what kind of driver Anita actually is because for all intents and purposes she appears to have a clean license. “I’ve never had an accident” she’d say and I’m sure the co-pilot would take Anita at her word because why would you doubt someone that waxes lyrical about the importance of ethical behaviour and safe driving?
There are quite a few bodies lying injured in the road now, though… it’s not just me, apparently, because it turns out other ‘paramedics’ are picking up the pieces of Anita’s mistakes, and talking to each other. Anita is getting a bit of reputation in our area which is both validating and absolutely fucking terrifying…because even though people know what she’s doing/done there seems to be no effective mechanism to deal with these rogue paramedics unless the injured person goes through the long and arduous act of reporting to the governing body that actually seems to be completely on the side of the paramedic and dismisses the injuries of the patient – maybe even suggesting that they threw themselves out the ambulance on purpose and are overplaying their injuries.
It might be different if all the injured patients could get together and take on a class action but sadly, none of us know who each other are, and this is why these people like Anita (and all the other people you guys tell me about) keep getting away with what they are doing.
Ok let’s stop with this metaphor shall we?
We all know she’s not a paramedic (thank god, can you even imagine that?!) but it seems that Anita is now getting a name in therapist circles.
She’s hurt a lot of people.
It’s shit.
Fuck her.
Still, I am not here to talk about that because I don’t know them, but I do feel for them…because I know what she’s done to me and how much damage it’s done and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.
I’ve been thrown through a few loops again this last month or so with all this ‘stuff’, ‘shit’, ‘disaster bollocks’…but the good thing is I am, at least, safely supported by Elle. She is helping me loads. We’re bandaging the wounds and waiting for the broken bones to heal and gently sitting with it all. Elle’s really looking after me and when I am not triggered out my brain I can see it so clearly. I feel really lucky that I have someone like her to help me manage whatever fallout there is with Anita and I feel like the steady work we’ve been putting in over the last year, or so, is really starting to pay off now. It’s been slow-going on my part but I’ve needed that time to build trust and safety with Elle – it couldn’t have been rushed.
Anita can’t do me too much damage now, the worst has already happened, but there is lots of processing to be done. Our sparse interactions pretty much always feel upsetting in some way, but it’ll be over soon because there is movement with it all (finally!)…I am just mad that this ‘end but not’ hash-up as dragged out for as long as it has. I wish that when we hit the three-month mark back in September 2023, she’d have met with me as we had agreed, to end properly, rather than saying she wasn’t “in a good enough place”.
Chasing her on and off for the next six months and being fobbed off or totally ignored until I mentioned bringing in her supervisor or a colleague made things much harder than it needed to be. It’s been such a long, drawn-out process simply trying to get her to even agree to meet with me that it’s felt exhausting and upsetting and it should never have been this way. Like terminating is bad enough but ending without a proper end is awful! Surely, this isn’t how you treat a long-term trauma client that you’ve been seeing twice a week for three-and-a-half years…? But apparently you do if you’re Anita…and sadly, it looks like I am not the only one who’s suffered her…what’s the word?… Carelessness?
The whole thing sort of ebbs and flows so far as my coping goes around this stuff. It’s been a fucking mess these last few weeks again, and it’s totally impacted how I have experienced my relationship with Elle outside the sessions. I have been so anxious and fearful — and it’s ALL because of Anita and nothing to do with Elle at all…and I can completely see that now.
It’s nice to be writing from a reasonably calm place today rather than from deep in the hole or spiralling through anxiety like my last post. It’s Friday today, and I haven’t yet hit the panic of ‘disappearing Elle’ … at the moment she still exists in my mind, I just miss her a bit. She reminded me on Tuesday (a huge erecting of scaffold around me and shoring up my foundations sort of a session) that the bracelet she gave me that I wear all the time is “evidence” that she “exists” and I can literally see that…and Monty, too, like I just need to use my eyes sometimes. We all know it’s not quite as simple as that, though, don’t we?!
It’s been hard being really massively triggered lately, and I feel really sad that my brain (Brian) hasn’t been able to differentiate between real life threats from Elle (there aren’t any), and the fears that feel massive but are not rooted in the here and now about Elle hurting me in some way. I am terrified of being abandoned and rejected and it’s because all the feelings of being abandoned and rejected have been reactivated by my recent interactions with A – like I say none of this is anything to do with Elle.
So, what’s caused the utter chaos in my system this time? – You know, aside from my being fucking mental?!
Well, turns out I really don’t do well with the feeling I am being lied to.
You might remember I had my own health stuff going on earlier in the year just as I had been in the process of trying to negotiate a meeting to end (remember Anita’s ‘walk and talk’ suggestion?!) but as it happened, I got shoved onto the rapid pathway referral for cancer investigations (all clear – phew!) and had all the blood tests and hospital stuff to do instead, so told her I’d be in touch to arrange to meet once things were more settled and my work had settled down after the crazy exam period in May/June. Then of course my son got very very sick and has been basically in and out of hospital since May and that has been an enormous amount to hold and cope with.
The summer just evaporated into medical appointments and caring for my little boy and then somehow, I found myself in mid-September, term had started again, and I realised that I still hadn’t got in touch with Anita to end but also realised that I was in no place to deal with her/us/this with so much stress in my daily life. I would have to be feeling pretty robust to see her and also have a degree of confidence that she wouldn’t make a total balls-up of any meeting which would actually set me further back.
I’m now basically 90% sure that I am just going to arrange to get my stuff back and not bother with a meeting at all because I have zero faith that she can end in a way that honours the work we did or our relationship but it’s taken this last few weeks of shit and also talking with Elle for that to really crystallise…so how did I get here?…
On the 15th September I sent Anita a message to say that I had been going through a lot of shit over the summer in one way or another and didn’t feel like I was able to meet with her just yet -this is the last bit of it:
None of this is really important but it’s just that I don’t really know what to do with meeting and getting my stuff back from you because I don’t feel like I have much capacity to hurt any more right now and actually that’s all there is. I feel so sad that all that we worked on over the years has been reduced to a sick feeling and another rejection added to the pile.
Like literally everywhere I look, it’s abandonment and rejection or just fucking horror and I think seeing you will only compound that right now. So, I don’t know what to do really. I feel like something has to shift because it feels like limbo and it’s painful but I am out of ideas on how not to make this feel any worse than it already does.
She replied a couple of days later with another of her stock feigning personal but actually pretty blank replies:
O my goodness, I am so sorry to read your message. I really do understand and will wait to hear from you to decide what would be the best way for you.Thinking of you with love and care, Anita x
When it came in, I didn’t really have much of a response internally. It is what it is. More of the same. I didn’t reply. What was the point?
So, lord knows what got into me on the 27th but I decided to check out her website – you know as an act of active self-harm it would seem.
Anita’s website hadn’t changed at all in the entire time I was working with her (since 2020) and low and behold it’s just undergone a MASSIVE overhaul. This would make sense seeing as she’s changed how she’s working wouldn’t it? It would make sense to update and remove any mention long-term work, or trauma work, or face-to-face sessions if you have stopped with long-term and complex clients, and are moving your practice online…so of course she’d need to do that, I’d say it’s well overdue 16 months after she dumped her long-term trauma clients.
Only this isn’t what’s happened to her site at all.
I suspect you might already have joined those dots and noticed a hint of sarcasm.
So, what’s the site like then?
Well, there’s lots of new/additional pictures of her looking really smiley and happy. There’s a fuck tonne more ‘glowing’ testimonials (I could fucking puke!). There’s an updated listings around her work etc. But absolutely no mention of her plan to move to online sessions only or the fact she won’t do long-term work or work with trauma anymore – in fact it’s the complete opposite.
I’d love to type up some of it here verbatim, but I know that could be searched in Google and despite everything I won’t compromise Anita’s confidentiality even though it is sorely tempting to at times.
To summarise, she waxed lyrical about being a member of the BACP governing body in the UK, her commitment to creating a “safe environment” and the importance of ethical working (warning clients about a local therapy organisation that has therapists practising who have been struck off from BACP). She mentions her ability to be flexible with appointments both face to face and online, even at weekends, as well as working on an “open-ended basis”. She then explained how “passionate” she is about her work and her commitment to providing a safe and caring space…
Ha!
It was particularly galling to see listed among the issues she works with:
Past and childhood issues
Abuse past or present
Post-traumatic stress disorder
Perhaps the most hard to swallow thing was a quote by Jung:
Know all the theories,
master all the techniques,
but as you touch a human soul,
be just another human soul.
Is she fucking serious?!
I swear at this point I was incandescent with rage.
The only soul Anita is right now is an arsehole.
Too much?
I told you I was mad!!
I basically lost my shit, and fortunately a good friend of mine who knows all about this saga was there to let me rant on Whatsapp. It was a lot! A useful bonus to this ‘unravel at speed’ and ‘rage’ was that it was all there ready to be screenshot!
Despite the big feelings and the embarrassment I felt about it (not with my friend, she totally gets it) we decided that it might be a good idea to let Elle see what I had written and how I had felt because it gave a really good ‘real time’ insight into what I was feeling and was a really good springboard into starting the conversations Elle and I have been having lately which have started to really metabolise this stuff.
Of course, reading Anita’s website made me feel so angry but also just really let down. Because all this time I have been patiently waiting for her to be ‘well enough’ to see me to end and then here she is with the time and energy to go into massive personal promotion, extolling how much she enjoys her work and what a privilege it is…and here I am in the fucking black pit of doom, battered and bruised.
So, well, umm, I decided to reply to her message:
I think the problem is there is no best way because however you look at it, this is not what I wanted or ever imagined would happen. All the years of work just feel like a joke and the words of love and care mean nothing because I don’t get how if you actually loved or cared about me we’d have ended up here.
The fallout and damage that’s been done is enormous and that’s especially the case because you didn’t just stop working because you were sick you stopped working with me and continued on with others. Even if I sometimes can get my head around needing to end so you could have space to recover, I’ll never recover from how big an abandonment and rejection this has been.
I’ve never been so emotionally upset for such a protracted period of time and it’s made me really ill. I’ll work through it but it’s been utterly awful and completely impacted my ability to trust in anyone but especially my therapist because I’m just waiting for the same to happen with her.
I know this is a big rant and I’m sorry. I just can’t believe that we ended up here.
I obviously didn’t mention her website or anything like that – there was no point- but after having been such a ‘good girl’ for so long I just felt like I had to say something. Because I feel like she’s pretty much washed her hands clean and feels like we are ok now – and we just aren’t.
I didn’t expect a reply. Anita has a habit of burying her head in the sand when I bring up anything remotely challenging.
And ten days went by and there was no response. Not that it really asks for a response. If there was going to be one it would have been nice to hear something like:
I know that our ending has really hurt you and I understand how much pain this has caused and I am sorry. I never would have wanted this for you but I accept that I have hurt you in a way that has tapped into your original wounding and I know that this is incredibly painful. I would like for us to come together and spend a proper period of time working this out so that we can move on from this with a degree of repair and get some proper closure. I have been thinking we could meet in my office for 1-3 sessions to enable us to properly tie our therapy up and to give you the space to collect your things.I know that this won’t be easy for either of us, but I want to honour the work and relationship we had, too, and feel in a place to be able to do that now.I know that this is not what you wanted and I understand that this we need to take this gently.
I mean that’d be hard but fine…
So, this is what came in last week just before my session with Elle literally a week and a half later:
I know it’s hard to believe but my life has not gone the way I planned. My practice has completely changed and, yes, I am still working as I can’t afford not to. I am in the process of moving to online only, and I don’t work with complex trauma anymore. I am unable to give my clients myself as much as that work requires and I can feel the protection of myself as a survival mechanism is very much there because it needs to be, whether I want it or not. My website is still the same as it gives me a platform to inform clients about the lack of regulation and [therapy practice] in an effort to try to keep clients safe even if it’s a very small way. So yes, I am still working but not in a way that you feel I am and I had to end with the deep emotional connecting work as I just can’t do it anymore.
This message came in a 4:50pm and I immediately sent it to Elle. When we were talking about it in our session this week, she said it had the feel of a 2am WhatsApp message not something written in the working day because it seems so defensive. I laughed. Defensive and reactive!…and yet again nothing at all to do with my experience of what’s happened.
I think it’s interesting that she made reference to her website, though – because as I say, I never have. I wonder if she was aware that it’s changed and that I may have seen it. But why lie about it? It’s not the same. It’s updated and yet also inaccurate.
Imagine finding Anita’s website, contacting her, and her saying something like “I only have online availability at the moment” but thinking you’d start like that and then hopefully move over when she freed up space – only to discover she doesn’t, in fact, work face-to-face. Or thinking you’d go and see how things go but with a view to there being long-term work and you’ll eventually get to your childhood trauma and PTSD once you’ve addressed some immediately pressing relationship issues and work stress if it feels safe to go there and then finding out actually that’s a no go zone.
I don’t for one minute think she’d end with those clients. I actually think she’d just a fucking massive liar.
It’s hard reading her message because as much as it isn’t personal – it is . I am ‘Complex Trauma’ and apparently, it’s that (me) that is triggering her need to protect herself as a “survival mechanism”. I know she would be horrified to think I would read it in that way, but that’s basically what she’s saying. And ending with “deep emotional connecting work” isn’t an abstract concept. She ended with me. She abandoned me when we were right in the thick of the work because she just couldn’t do it. All the words of “It’s not what either of us want” and “I love you so much but I have to get well” feel utterly ridiculous don’t they?
Anyway, that’s why I have been a colossal wreck for a few weeks. Elle has been steady and available and actually really just helpful. We’ve looked at this stuff quite a bit and that’s huge given how much I have shied away from bringing it to session over the last year.
Having had a lot of space to turn this over in my brain with Elle, and seeing how much it’s all upset me, I have pretty much decided that I am going to ask to get my things back and leave it at that for now.
As much as I would love to go and meet Anita and really lay out how badly this has all affected me, I have absolutely zero confidence in her ability to hear that and not somehow throw it back in my face. I don’t need her reacting defensively. I need for her to be able to hold the space.
A while back Elle suggested getting another therapist to hold the meeting with us and act as a facilitator. I think this might be a good idea but I can’t see Anita ever agreeing to it.
So, the next plan that Elle and I are figuring out at the moment is finding a way to get my things back. Again, Elle has suggested using someone as an intermediary – so she wouldn’t meet her. I am wondering if she might be thinking the person that shares her office on the days she’s not using it. To be honest, Anita works over the road on a Thursday and she could just drop a box of stuff in to the hall/reception and it could be taken in at some point during the day if they knew it was coming. Still, this is something to think about…
Well, shit, I have been stuck deep down in the emotional black hole this last week (again). Tbh, I am always in the hole somewhere, it’s just distinguishing in which part of it and at what depth of it I am located. Sounds cryptic but it’s not really. You see my ‘hole’ (not a euphemism so stop that!) has a very particular quality to it– it’s like a bloody endless underground cave system these days rather than an open pit! Awesome. What a gift long-term and enduring mental health issues are!
I imagine a lot of people when they hit the skids with their mental health probably feel like they tumble and fall into a dark hole. These pits all look slightly different – we all have our own personal holes that come with our own specific and individual décor! It would make for a really great issue of an interior design/mental health magazine if people submitted plans and images of their nightmare hell zones wouldn’t it?…
Anyway…
When we fall in, I guess it’s common to get stuck at the bottom for a bit, feel pretty hopeless and alone, and then try and scrabble our way back up and out to ground level when we feel able to – maybe with the help of someone else. Assistance can certainly expediate things but unfortunately a by-product of landing face first in the hole is that we often don’t believe there is anyone else who can see us or help us. And even if there is, there is a very real fear that we may inadvertently end up dragging that person into the hole with us, and if/when we do manage to get out together, they’ll leave/abandon us because they’ll be so horrified by what they witness in that hole alongside us. (It happens, sadly).
The hole is a bit like ‘Fight Club’. You do not talk about the hole. What happens in the hole stays in the hole. Because even though the hole itself is fucking terrifying enough on its own – how we behave in the hole can also be problematic. It can be a place where we fall into self-harming behaviours, self-neglect, and addiction to name but a few issues – and let’s keep that shit secret! Well, that’s what our shame would tell us, anyway.
We are not always our best-selves down in the hole – we’re simply trying to survive using whatever tools we have available to us in the moment and, honestly, even after years of therapy, my go-to self-care strategies often feel completely out of reach when I am suffering in the depths. It’s amazing how quickly I can slip into negative coping strategies just like a comfy pair of slippers…only, actually, these ones are full of thorns and hurt every time I move!
The goal, then, when you find yourself stuck in this cess pit of doom is to get the fuck out of the trench as quickly as you can. Of course, that’s much easier said than done. There can be a lot of slipping, sliding, and stumbling on the way back up because the way out isn’t easy and it’s fucking exhausting work trying to drag your dead weight back to relative normality.
I really feel like the struggle isn’t understood or appreciated enough, and I think sometimes people make the assumption that we must like being down in the hole, or that we are deliberately careless because we keep tumbling in and spend such a lot of time in there. It’s hard enough when friends and family might hint at this sort of thing but it’s especially awful and shaming when therapists comment on how “stuck” you are and that maybe you’re not trying hard enough to get out… FUCK OFF!! (I’d forgotten about this until now, and so that’s just given me the rage when I am already in a rage!!!)
Of course, if and when you successfully make it out the hole, it’s super important to try and be mindful going forward. I really try and scan the path ahead. I’m constantly trying to spot any future holes so that I can try sidestep them should any come into view – but we all know it isn’t that simple! My life has been riddled with concealed hole entrances and at times it can feel like an endless landscape of craters waiting for me rather than solid ground. It’s inevitable that I will, at intervals, be unlucky and end up in the dark…and actually, I have been consistently feeling my way through the dark for almost two years now and so it’s hard to imagine what it’s like not being in the hole.
So, what’s my hole like? (stop it!) Well, I suppose my hole isn’t really a hole at all, rather it’s a series of holes or dark rooms stacked on top of another linked by unseen trapdoors going deep into the depths of the earth. The further down we go, the spaces stop being dark rooms with manmade walls and instead become cold, dark, damp caves almost like prison cells buried deep into rock. I’ve spoken about falling through endless trapdoors before, and this analogy far better fits my experience of being in the dark depths for me than in a singular sticky shit hole.
So how do I end up in this place?
Imagine being at ground level, wandering along the street, minding your own business, living your day-to-day as best you can, occasionally getting your foot stuck in a puddle that actually turns out to be a pot hole, twisting your ankle, but generally maintaining momentum and keeping in touch with the world and people around you. You’re functional even if you have a bit of a limp. You can usually feel the sunlight on your skin – well, more likely it’s a dark and cloudy day, but you at least have sense that it is daytime – it’s ‘good enough’. Life above ground isn’t perfect by any means but it isn’t terrible, either.
Then imagine, unexpectedly, falling down an open hole – you know, like how pubs have cellar trapdoors outside in the street? Well, that first fall down into the dark is bloody shocking and painful and you want to scream “OUCH!” but generally it doesn’t take too long to assess the situation and start looking for a way out. You brush yourself off, check for any broken bones, and start shouting up to the world above “HELP ME!!!” because you can very clearly see the sky and the people walking along outside and you believe that there is a way out. You’re probably only 12 feet below ground at this point and a return to the world above is completely possible.
The problems really start to come when you repeatedly fall down the hole. Bones break. Bruises never quite seem to heal before you fall again. Fatigue kicks in from the endless effort of trying to escape. It gets harder and harder to crawl back out the more times you fall. At times it can feel completely pointless even trying as you know it’s only going to be a matter of time until you’re back in the dark and honestly, I feel like maybe I should just accept that the hole is where I actually belong and make the best of it.
Sometimes, there’s a complicating factor – especially for those of us with childhood trauma and relational injuries. I can be doing absolutely everything right. I’m checking every step I take and can be wandering along quite happily and then some fucker (who I really trust) deliberately pushes me down into the hole and runs off! I mean that’s just fucking horrific.
That’s where I am now. Only, it’s worse than that because I wasn’t at ground level to begin with when I got pushed. I had Anita in a mid-level hole with me having worked our way up through quite a few levels after Em had done a fab job at leaving me for dead down in the depths in 2020. Anita was holding my hand and it felt like we were successfully navigating our way through the dark…and then she decided to leave me, but not just leave me on level -5 of the hole, she forcefully pushed me down through another trapdoor.
As I have fallen, I have kind of rolled and rolled and unfortunately found more and more trapdoors. I’ve passed the place where Em left me and have kept tumbling and tumbling. Surely, I must be pretty close to rock bottom now. There simply can’t be any more trapdoors to fall through, can there?
The saddest thing about all this is that it isn’t just adult me in the hole. I could cope with that. But there are all the child parts too – and they are so scared. Every single one of them is terrified of the dark and it is totally pitch black. There’s not even the tiniest bit of light where we are. It’s like their worst nightmares playing out in waking time and as much as I try, I don’t always have to ability to contain them all. No matter how I try to reassure them and say we are safe and that it will be ok, it just doesn’t land…because I am not sure I really believe that either, now.
To say that it’s really not nice in the cave/pit/hole would be a huge understatement. My brain can attack me/us with some pretty shit messages about being “a burden” and “unlovable” and “too much” or “not enough” – the list is literally fucking endless…! If you’re reading this, then you’ve probably been there. You know the drill. Basically, you’re stuck in the dark with a sound system that only plays your Inner Critic’s hit list on full volume and on repeat the whole time you’re down there.
Just glorious!
I mean who doesn’t love their deepest wounds and insecurities coming at them on loop? Who wouldn’t want to be told that “you’d be better off dead” or that “no one would miss you if you were gone” and that “even your ‘friends’ only tolerate you” or that “you’re disgusting” or “pathetic” or “worthless” or a “fraud” or that you “deserve this” and “what kind of loser can’t even pay someone to stay and care?”… and then of course throw in real life soundbites from people who have really hurt you, “you’re so sensitive and defensive”, “you’re too dependent”, “your child parts are adhesive like a tick” and … well… it’s not brilliant is it? I could go on and on and on but you all know your soundtrack and will be familiar with how hearing it makes you feel. I mean it is a total immersion in the shit and shame isn’t it?
The messages of doom and isolation have never really changed much since I first found myself in my dark place back in my early teens – perhaps the messages are more insistent and louder than they were initially, and the shape and dimensions of my hole (honestly, every time I type that I am giggling like a fourteen-year-old kid!) have definitely changed. As I say, these days it’s not just a hole or cellar – it’s a much more complex subterranean structure. It’s not a dark hole with a consistent depth and bottom – I’d take that any day of the week.
Despite how crap it is, I’ve come to accept that this multi-floored/roomed/cave system is just part of my internal landscape now. I know that I can’t avoid it, it can’t be filled – there is not enough concrete in the world for that! – all I can do is tread carefully and try my best to keep feet on solid ground if I do ever make up to ground level and I will continue to put things in place for the next fall.
When I am in the dark, feeling scared and really suffering like I am now, it’s really really important to try and remember that the Inner Critic is only trying to protect me. As loud and terrifying as it is, it really doesn’t want to harm me – it’s scared too, it just doesn’t know how best to express it. Perhaps there is a little bit of comfort in knowing that all my system is ever trying to do is look after me – it just has some pretty fucked up ways of doing it.
When it is awful, like it is now, I need to trust that it is always worth taking the chance on screaming and asking for help even if I believe that no one can hear me, because there are people who care and who do want to help…and have ladders and torches… I just need to let them know where I am rather than cowering silently in the dark.
Last week, before our session, I pre-warned Elle that I was in the hole and unravelling – which felt like a big thing to do. I needed to do that, though, because False Adult is so skilled at pretending that everything is ok and denies that there even is a hole (A ‘Fight Club’ hole pro!), let alone that we may be stuck in it. As I result of letting Elle know quite how bad it feels, I’ve been hit with some huge feelings of shame and panic. I feel like I’ve dragged her down into the hole and am terrified that she, too, will freak out and run off, but not before giving me a hearty push down through another trapdoor. She’s given me absolutely no sense that this would happen…but my brain can’t help but worry.
It’s really sad that I feel this way and it hurts a lot to know that my trust is so fragile. For now, Elle and I are just sitting together, waiting for some of the painful injuries to heal a bit before trying to make a plan to find our way out of this mess. It doesn’t feel quite so cold and scary with her sitting beside me and the dark doesn’t feel quite so overwhelming when I can physically feel her holding my hand. The problems happen when I lose contact for a bit (you know, like the six days between sessions!) and can’t immediately find her…it doesn’t take long for the Critic to get back in my head and the panic to take hold.
I will write a post about why things are particularly hard right now, next time. But needless to say, it involves Anita… bleurgh.
Sending love and light (candles, torches, flares!) down into your holes. Whatever your Inner Critic may have you believe, you are not alone and you are worthy of love and care. x
It’s been one hell of a year – and honestly the level of grief I have been dealing with (navigating my way through the dark!) has been huge and it’s intense at the moment with all the anniversary stuff happening now. It’s bad enough that Anita and I have ‘ended but not’ on such a weird footing but what’s made it all the more difficult is what this ‘end’ (abandonment) has tapped into.
The work Anita and I were doing in my therapy was so much about trying to make sense of and, hopefully, healing the mother wound and the physical and emotional abandonments from the past that have so massively impacted me.
It might seem hyperbolic but this deep wounding that happened so young and continued on as I grew up has formed so much of the fabric of how I see myself and how I operate in my life. I guess most of you that follow this blog probably relate to that in some way.
The anxiety, the hypervigilance, the never feeling ‘good enough’ whilst simultaneously feeling ‘too much’, trying to prove my worthiness through productivity, trying not to have any kind of need… the list goes on and on…really stems from the relationship with my mother. It’s not a secret to me or to anyone else here!
Sadly, my efforts at working through this mess with therapists has not gone brilliantly despite my best efforts. What happened with Em was completely devastating – I don’t think I’ll ever really get over being compared to a ‘tick’! But what has happened with Anita is soooo much worse. To be left in the way I have by someone who professed to love me deeply has triggered so much grief and pain.
I’ve lost Anita who was so much to me for so long seemingly for something that wasn’t even my fault but even knowing this, it doesn’t change anything – she still left me. I wasn’t ‘enough’ for her to stay. And that’s the kicker in relationships – even when we get our side more or less right, we can’t account for the other. And I do get it, Anita’s life got messy… very… but she is working…and this is the thing I can’t make right in my mind.
So despite there having been no rupture, no lack of love (ha- really?!), nothing actually wrong with me (apparently) I am still having to stare down this loss, as well as all the other hurts that have filled this well over the course of my life because Anita chose to leave me when she did. The work wasn’t done and so rather than feel healed I just feel additionally wounded. It’s another loss to work through on top of so many other losses.
I remember early on speaking with Anita about therapy and saying how obviously the goal is to leave one day but actually how important it feels to have a sort of open door policy. There’s a supportive relationship that we would build and could always be returned to at intervals if needed. There would be a period of intense need, dependency etc but the goal of the work was to basically let my young parts integrate, experience what it is to be held, to have some of their needs met and eventually the maturational process would take place and I would naturally individuate and need A less.
Like that’s the idea.
That was our plan.
A kind of gentle reparenting.
Only premature termination of this work didn’t help that at all. All it’s done is reinforce the original message that no one is safe and I am not worthy of love or care…or at least some parts feel that.
My adult self is stronger than it has ever been and is more able than it has ever been to communicate with those on the minibus inside and hold them to a degree. I was well on the way to the end point – but my god it’s painful being here right now.
Of course, I now see Elle, and as I have said, I really like her a lot. I can feel the attachment to her building and honestly it scares the fucking shit out of me. The push/pull inside is agony at times. I am so tired of having to hold all this and really desperately want to just collapse in a heap on the floor of the therapy room and remove all the armour and masks…I am getting there…
Anyway, one of the things I have been doing more recently is spending time at the beach walking on my own and just feeling into the feelings.
Yikes.
The feelings are big.
I cry a lot.
It doesn’t matter, the beach has been pretty much abandoned and I often go out early morning or towards sunset so no one sees me with tears streaming down my face.
One of the things I do is collect pebbles and interesting shells. I have always drawn hearts in the sand but lately I have been making hearts from beach material. It’s so cathartic wandering up and down the sand seeking out whatever colour or type of rock or shell I am looking for and spending some time creating something really simple but so meaningful to me.
It feels like an act of grief and act of love.
There has been nowhere for my grief to go this year with Anita. I’ve held it tightly inside – because actually all it is is love. So much of it. And so I make these hearts. Sometimes they’re for A. Sometimes for Em. Sometimes more hopefully, for Elle and a bridge to connection with her.
“It’ll be ok. I’m coming back. Nothing is going to change. I love you.”
Today is the anniversary of the last time I saw Anita as I ‘knew’ her. She was just about to head off on a two-week holiday and we parted on warm hugs and these words of reassurance and care.
With hindsight, these are not promises anyone can every truly make to us, even our family. We don’t know what’s ahead and even with our very best intentions the universe can throw us curve balls and change the trajectory of our lives in a heartbeat.
So, a therapist saying this, whilst absolutely well-intentioned, has actually proved to be massively damaging in the long run. Despite all the good will in the world, Anita has broken those promises and her attempts at reassurance to the youngest, most vulnerable parts of me, have now branded into my brain as individual soundbites of betrayal and lies because nothing was ‘ok’, she didn’t really ‘come back’, everything ‘changed’, and…’I love you’? Well, is what’s happened in the last twelve months the actions of someone who loved me? I wrestle with that a lot.
Adult me can understand this has been a complex situation, but the little ones inside?- not at all. It’s horrific for them. They can’t make sense of it. It’s another mother who has chosen to walk away when she promised she absolutely would stay because I was ‘worth it’ and have never deserved my previous treatment by others.
In the end, though, Anita made the choice to stop work with me (and all other long-term clients…apparently…although who really knows?) whilst still retaining some ‘easy’ clients. She needed to reduce the ‘stress in her life’ and I was part of that package.
I’ll be honest, after three and a half years of consistent love and care and meeting on such an intimate level, it wasn’t a choice I actually thought she’d ever make to dump me and keep going with other people. Despite my issues around trust and abandonment I genuinely believed her when she had said, ‘she’d always have space for me in her world’ and that even when she retired, she’d see me because she ‘couldn’t let me go’. Like I didn’t have a gun to her head to make her say those things, she offered them up freely. And the amount of kind, loving, reassurances that came from her sunk deep down into me. It was all so healing … until this happened.
Well, it turns out it was all lip service, and I was a fucking fool. She left me and has been working consistently since. In fact, she’s been actively advertising her availability for new clients. I understand that her work may look different to how it was. Her caseload has a different complexion but, still, it’s impossible not to see this as a complete and total rejection of me for being ‘too much’ hard work and causing too much ‘stress’.
But actually, truthfully, who wants a burnt-out therapist who declares themselves ‘broken’ but continues to work because they ‘can’t afford not to’? That’s never right…and part of me, at least, knows this. Part of me, knows too, that really none of this is about me at all, and more about Anita’s ability to manage (or not) her personal life.
The work we had been doing had so much been about feeling good enough, worthy enough, lovable enough, valuable…and when it came down to it I was none of those things. I couldn’t even manage to have someone I pay to spend time with me to stay…yet other people can. It’s hard not to allow that critical inner voice to take hold because it’s been so much of my internal narrative over the years – especially after what happened with Em.
I need a therapist who is steady and capable of holding the work. I need someone who can manage their own life without crashing and burning and taking out a vulnerable clients as collateral damage. And Elle, seems to be that. I am aware, though, that I am keeping parts of myself very well protected now.
After all this crap with Anita I am reluctant to let anyone that close to me ever again because, honestly, it’s broken me. Today I was walking out in the countryside and burst into tears because I allowed my mind to wander a bit and it alighted on Anita. This next month is going to be tough as it signals a year for all the hell that was the last few times I saw Anita but also a year where there has been no resolution, no termination session, no return of my books … just a limbo period. It’s A’s birthday and honestly, knowing this time last year I was giving her a gift and this year she’s not part of my world at all is hard.
Therapy is delicate work. As Elle said the other day, when something goes wrong with a therapist it’s like dealing with an engine. You cannot work on it whilst it’s still on, turning over. You have to turn it off, completely stop, and mend you cannot go ramming your hands into the engine when it’s going. What’s worse, she said, is that Anita has been poking her hands in other people’s engines whilst they’re on, too, and doing untold damage. It’s not ok.
And it so isn’t ok – I am not ok… although I am doing my very best to hold it together with my rubber bands and chewing gum.
Anyway, in that last long post I was jumping all over the place- and talked about a session with buttons and another with the lovely hug…and I will continue on from there soon but today, I’ve got derailed by all this sadness and grief about A…and so want to talk a bit about another connecting experience I had with Elle a few months ago.
I mentioned in my last blog about how I keep forgetting how much Elle actually knows about the vulnerable stuff because my mind seems to completely block that from my consciousness when I am with her. I somehow, in the moment face-to-face have no idea that I have sent several ‘exposing’ raw emails to her since we met last August and actually she probably sees me more than I think she does!
Anyway, I hit the skids again and sent this to her in February…I’d had more of those False Adult fronting sessions and was just driving myself fucking mad:
This is the note slid under the door…because frankly no one cares about how tidy (or not) my house is- and I am so fucking good at avoidance that next week I could talk to you about my lost marble collection (not a metaphor – although metaphorical lost marbles would be useful to speak about seeing as I feel like I’m going slowly mad).
I don’t really know where to begin with this because the overriding feeling I am experiencing at the moment is shame – and unlike like you who (weirdly!) seeks out opportunities to sit in shame to prove it’s not going to kill you – I try to avoid it where possible. Having said that, it’s stuck to me like my shadow so I can never truly outrun it. And I guess you’d say don’t run from it, explore it – and believe me I know what it’s all about but that doesn’t mean I want to be covered in its thick tar-like substance for any longer than is absolutely necessary.
I feel a bit like one of those sea birds that’s been caught in an oil slick like you’d see on the news when a tanker would run aground. I know that the only way out of this hell is to bubble up with a massive load of washing up liquid – a soapy shame remover if you like, but right now I am head-to-toe in black, and it feels like there is something terribly wrong with me and I can’t find the soap. There’s also a bit of a problem now because the shame remover I had found that seemed to work really well was connection – but actually a couple of bottles of connection had tar in and so now I don’t seem to trust that either.
Shame has been so present – in me/on me/both – over the years that I am surprised that I haven’t become less sensitive to it or adapted some kind of Teflon type skin – but nope. It’s still that horribly visceral all-consuming visit from a dementor and I feel sick.
You probably have no idea that I have spent the last (almost) six months trying very hard not to allow myself to feel very much at all in the relationship with you. It’s not really worked though. Therapy feels really dangerous – well, at least to some parts of me… and so I am really aware that the person who turns up to therapy is me – but that person is also a really excellent shield for all the hurt and vulnerable parts. I guess it’s a bit like that chicken analogy you used the other day – where the chicken tucks the chicks under their wings. And whilst that seems like a really sensible thing to do- it’s protective- it’s not much good if the chicks actually need the vet!
I read a book years ago by Patricia DeYoung about chronic shame and this bit really stuck out:
In brief and speaking from the perspective of a child’s regulated self, a regulating other is a person on whom I rely to respond to my emotions in ways that help me not to be overwhelmed by them, but rather to contain, accept, and integrate them into an emotional “me” I can feel comfortable being. A dysregulating other is also a person I want to trust – and should be able to trust – to help me manage my affect or emotion. But this person’s response to me, or lack of response to me, does exactly the opposite: it does not help me contain, accept, or integrate.
Then I become a self disintegrating in relation to a dysregulating other. This is what happens: as an infant, when I am in an affective state of distress, or as a child, when I am feeling a rush of emotion, the other’s response fails to help me manage what I’m feeling. Instead of feeling connected, I feel out of control. Instead of feeling energetically focused, I feel overwhelmed. Instead of feeling that I’ll be ok, I feel like I am falling apart.
This kind of experience is the core experience of shame. All of it has something to do with needing something intensely from someone important, and something going wrong with the interaction between us. I feel, “I can’t make happen what I need from you”. If the sequence is repeated often enough in my development to become and expectable experience, I will have a core propensity to feel shame whenever I have strong feelings, need emotional connection, or feel something is wrong in an interpersonal interaction. In all of those situations, I will be likely to conclude, consciously or unconsciously, “There is something wrong with what I need- with my needy self”.
And that’s kind of how it feels now. It’s not quite the dysregulating other thing because I haven’t told you what’s going on or how I feel but that makes no difference to my inner experience because essentially there’s this really sad, vulnerable, part (several actually) that’s in pieces and feels shame because there’s so much need but it’s hidden and unseen and can’t regulate. And I get this prison is of my own making – which is so fucking annoying – but there is this bit of me that is absolutely fucking terrified of fucking things up, actually trusting you and being seen and then to be deemed unacceptable is a massive fear.
Like I hold myself together with rubber bands and chewing gum which is always a bit problematic at the best of times – they’re doing a lot of heavy lifting in lieu of super glue – but now I feel like I am disintegrating.
I keep circling this drain over and over.
I really can’t overstate how damaging what has happened with Anita is. The reason she gave me for ending seemed legitimate at the time. She was really unwell. But I am really struggling to understand how she can still be working and yet now say that she’s not in a good enough place to meet and to properly end as we had agreed. It all feels like lies now – and avoidance…and really unfair. And unfortunately, my brain’s default programming always lands on “It’s because you’re too much”. So I am having a really hard time because the person I really trusted with me – all of me – has become someone I don’t recognise at all and seems not to care in the least that they’ve hurt me…so that must make this a me problem.
And then of course my mum being … well… gone…feels like a me problem.
This is really not dealing with my adult self…which I guess is why I am seeing you in the first place but ugh…
So now I am really aware of how all this stuff is just swirling around inside and how scared I am of breaking you too.
I can’t make Brian (my nickname for my brain) make sense today. I guess – I like you a lot and there’s a pull to want to be closer to you but it’s terrifying on so many levels.
Anyway, I’ll go hide in my pit of shame and embarrassment now x
-GAHHHH – Fuck! – like, how do I manage to wipe this from my consciousness? I mean it’s clear my brain is wanting to stop me being too exposed or clamming up because I feel like I have been too vulnerable – but it’s so funny in a way. My best-friend had to remind me this week that Elle knows a lot, because she’s had all the letters!
Oh god!
Anyway, Elle replied with something nice and connecting and then in the next session I walked in feeling a bit sheepish and sat down.
She came over to me at the start of the session and told me to hold out my hands.
Errr. Ok??
And she poured a handful of marbles into them and told me that they were for me.
It was a lovely symbolic gesture in reference to the email I’d sent and opened up a really helpful conversation about my literal lost marble collection, but also the wobbly losing my metaphorical marbles.
It’s a slow gentle edging towards trust and safety…
Since then, I have taken one of the marbles with me wherever I go. It’s acting as a transitional object.
Recently, I was at the beach and decided to photograph the marble in different places…and something possessed me to send one of the pictures to Elle. She thought it was one I had found at the beach. I got that immediate squirmy shame feeling and figured I had to be honest and reply, and told her that, no, actually it was one of the ones she had given me.
Anyway, that’s just another example of some of the nice things that have happened in therapy, and I do have to consciously remind myself of them. It’s so hard sometimes to hold onto what’s good because I am so scared of losing it all but also convince myself that none of it is real. It’s very different from the work with Anita and it is hard not to perpetually compare backwards and feel like it’s not enough, or I am not seen or held or *whatever* but actually I think all things considered Elle and I are doing pretty well considering the state I came to her in.
This week, though, is going to be especially hard because I am feeling so vulnerable about the anniversary with Anita and feel acutely how painful this grief is. It’s absolutely live again. It makes me feel alone and isolated and terribly small…and I want to reach out for someone safe and there doesn’t feel like there is anyone. I could email Elle, I suppose, but there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to overburden her or be too much.
It’s so frustrating being in this place…but that’s the thing with loss and grief and attachment and trauma and all the things…the path isn’t linear. It’s a spiral. Sometimes I am at the top of the spiral and looking down and in reasonable control; other times I am spinning so fast I feel sick and giddy.
So… I wish I could say things are getting better this end, but they really aren’t. I haven’t felt this awful in years and honestly, at this point, it’s just my dogged determination not to give up that’s keeping me functional – albeit, barely. Talk about living life in survival…it’s fucking beyond exhausting and I have really just had enough, now.
There’s such a lot of shit going on in one way or another and I haven’t really known where to begin which is why I have been AWOL (mind you, looks like everyone on WP has gone awol this month). I want to write. When I feel isolated and alone like I do now, this blog always helps – but, which therapy do I even talk about?: the one that’s ‘ended but hasn’t really’ with Anita or the new one that seems to be ‘like flying through turbulence and is triggering the shit out of me’?
I was laid up in bed most of last week because my neck seized, and I couldn’t move! The tension was triggered on Tuesday during and after my session with Elle and it’s only today that I have even the slightest bit of movement before hitting the pain. But that’s another story…for another post because I’ve just received an email…
Last time I was here I was telling you all about the messages Anita and I had exchanged at 5 months post ‘end but not end’ (5 FUCKING MONTHS!) and how her lack lustre, ‘I know but I just can’t work at that level of work anymore’ reply just set a fire under my ass and I sent her a long message in reply knowing that really it would signal no going back.
What I hadn’t bargained on was her ghosting me.
When I wrote my last post it was about two weeks after the message I’d sent and there had been total radio silence… well, the radio silence persisted and then it was 6 FUCKING MONTHS on Saturday – and Anita had ignored that message altogether for a month. I can’t even really believe the woman/therapist I worked with for all these years has become this. It makes me wonder who she even is? Was any of it real, or was this version of her there all along and the whole thing has just been some elaborate act? It certainly feels that way.
To say that this whole thing has been driving me insane (making me ill) would be an understatement. I don’t know why I expected better from her – but I really did. I have a tendency to want to see the best in people and remain hopeful even when there’s a shit tonne of evidence to the contrary telling me people are fucking shit.
I didn’t imagine for a minute that when she face planted so badly in May that she wouldn’t at some point reflect, take herself out of the immediate situation, and think about what she had done to her long-term clients – me – and want to make a decent end…because why wouldn’t you? Like if you know you have hurt someone really badly, wouldn’t you want to try and repair as much as possible?
If you genuinely cared about someone then surely, as a therapist, that’s the very least you’d do….ESPECIALLY if you were still working and have a client load. I can’t believe an hour out of her life on a working day is beyond her. I can’t believe she wouldn’t be willing to want to try and make an end that mitigated against how fucking appalling this has been. I can’t believe that she hasn’t taken this to supervision and her supervisor hasn’t given her some advice on how best to handle the clear up…
But there we are. Can’t apply our own standards to others – even if those others have been paid by us for years!
It’s maddening.
As First Aid Kit so accurately wrote,
“I always thought that you’d be here, but shit gets fucked up, and people just disappear”
Anyway, on Saturday I decided to switch to email. You want to ignore my messages then let’s try another prong of attack!
This is what I sent titled ENDING:
I’m guessing that given you’re now completely ghosting me, that the agreement that we’d come back and end properly if things were no better isn’t going to happen either.
I’m at a complete loss to understand how it’s got to this point – as walking out the room six months ago it did not for one minute occur to me that it would be like this now, “It’s not what either of us want”… really?
3.5 years of work and relationship deserves a better close than this and how it’s not, and I’m not, worthy of a proper end even if it would be hard and painful feels shit.
This time three years ago you gave me the beating heart necklace… I can’t understand what’s happened to now be in a place where you won’t even talk to me but it’s really hard to be approaching Christmas and you just not be there.
RB
The weekend has been pretty rough – I’m navigating all kinds of angst and feelings of disconnect with Elle — that of course are intensified because of all this bullshit with Anita so I feel like everything is very very fragile.
Anyway, I’ve been soldiering on and then just now I received this email…
Honestly, guys, tell me what you think because at this point I am just at a loss:
Hi RB,
It’s not I’m ghosting you although can totally understand it feels like that.
I just I have so little capacity at the moment.
I know my friends and family are also struggling with me not being as available as I once was but that’s just how it is for me.
I am also unsure what it is you are looking for from me, I think we both agree we can’t go back to a therapeutic relationship so not sure what it is you are looking for as I am really not able to offer very much in my current situation.
With sincere apologies,
Anita x
I was frankly speechless when I received it. I didn’t even really have many feelings, initially. Part of me locked down somewhere inside is probably crying – but the most dominant parts are really just fucking flabbergasted. This is the best she can muster – after all this time?
Is it not clear what I have been holding out for and asking for over the last few months- to honour the fucking agreement that we would meet in person and try and do a decent end? Like the therapeutic relationship is long gone. My trust is decimated, and I feel so fucking angry and let down by Anita but an end… come on now. Is she that dim?
Never has she checked that I am ok in all this (clearly, I’m not). Even when I left in June, you’d think she’d at least have made some kind of plan with me to ensure that I was ‘emotionally’ looked after, even if it was with a colleague or her supervisor. The level of neglect and basic lack of care is staggering to me. I mean a twice a week client with outside contact who has complex trauma and a history of self harm – of course it’s fine to just drop them and never look back right?!
This email, again, like those sessions in May, is about her: her lack of capacity, her struggle, how hard it is for her… and you know what, I get it, but it’s not fucking good enough. This ‘crisis’ has been coming for years. I can’t understand why, as a therapist, she wasn’t able to see her issues (certainly after her first meltdown in September 2021) and take herself into personal therapy to help get a handle on it before it shattered her world. And to be clear – the issue she’s ‘dealing’ with is not uncommon; her elderly mother needs increased care. Lots of people and families navigate that without completely falling apart and wrecking their careers. I’m sure it’s brought up all kinds of issues from childhood and stuff about meeting other people’s needs – but go do the fucking work before you act it on on your paying clients!!!
Anyway, that’s that. I don’t even know how to reply. It’s not worth my emotion is it? She simply can’t/won’t see what she’s done and cannot give me the closure I so badly need. I need to talk to Elle tomorrow and see what plan I can make for my books (which Anita still has btw!). Anita’s city office if literally across the street from Elle so I am wondering whether I can ask Anita to drop them in the door at Elle’s. At least then I don’t receive them in the post and get body-slammed.
Of course, that all relies on tomorrow with Elle going ok. We are in rupture territory – I’ll come back and write about that next. Needless to say I am not having a very good time.
It just feels like I am screaming into the fucking void: Can’t somebody help me PLEASE!!
A few years ago I wrote a letter to my seventeen year old self here on the blog. It felt quite cathartic at the time. I was still working with Em, and it felt like I was at a place where I needed to open up some big stuff and trust in the relationship. I felt like this teen part was getting in the way and wanted to ask her to step back a bit…big mistake!
These last couple of weeks this particular teenage self is having a really hard time. Things are pretty awful actually…and so I am writing to her again. It has a different flavour to the last one (which I’ll add to the end of this post for anyone that hasn’t been tagging along here for all eternity)
x x x
Dear Seventeen.
I am so fucking sorry for being yet another adult that has let you down and for not protecting you from being hurt again…and again…and again. I need to do better – for both our sakes. Last time I was here I asked you to let your guard down and be more open with Em our old old old therapist…(we’re racking them up aren’t we – I wonder if there’s a record for burning through counsellors?!)
It’s been years since that letter in 2018 but I want you to know that I see that I was really wrong to encourage you to be ‘less resistant’ and wrong to ask you to lean into trusting Em when you clearly felt very reluctant to do so. I should have trusted you then because your inner barometer is (and always has been) spot on. You read people so well, and as much as it can be frustrating for me to have you dig your heels in or go into hiding in the therapy room, I realise now that the only way you’ll trust is if you feel safe. If you don’t feel safe it’s because it isn’t safe– it’s not because you are misreading a situation and viewing everything through a distorted trauma lens.
I told you before that you’ve done a wonderful job of keeping the young ones safe and I need to remember that you are a very experienced protector rather than a barrier to the therapy. You have always let me know when things are off. I want you to know that you weren’t the problem in the therapy with Em and I am sorry that I believed that the reason things felt so difficult with her was because we weren’t giving her the map and keeping her… what did she say?… Blindfolded? … and after a while I felt like it must be true. I felt her frustration with us both and ultimately pushed beyond what felt ok for you – and I regret that. You’d been down that path before and I had forgotten, but I remember now, and I am sorry.
We, so often, ask young people to ignore their gut feelings as if we adults know best (we so don’t – we’re just winging it too!). We ask you to be compliant and disregard your feelings in order to make things easier for us. Actually, what I should have done when you were so vocal and upset was to be far more curious about what was holding you back from opening up to Em in the first place. I know you are incredibly scared of rejection and abandonment – of course you are- but it was more than that wasn’t it?
You inherently know who you feel safe with and with those safe people you feel able to talk and allow yourself to be seen. K doesn’t trigger your nervous system and you are able to stay in the window of tolerance with her. She sees you (and all the others), and she does nothing but understand, make space for, and celebrate you. She is a gift. But you never felt safe with Em, not really. You were attached to her, just like I was but she wasn’t safe. Talk about trauma bonding!
I am so sorry that I pushed and told her things that you weren’t ready for. You were right to be wary and I am sorry. It must feel really painful to keep experiencing the same kinds of rejections and abandonments on repeat because I override you. I promise I won’t do that anymore. I am paying attention now. I hear you. I understand why you think it is safer to stay silent and isolate yourself. It’s lonely inhabiting this space but at least no one can hurt you.
It seems late in the day to be talking about all this stuff with you again now, but this last couple of weeks I have been really aware of how distressed you are and it’s not just about what’s happened with Anita is it? Although that is a massive hurt too – so massive. To be honest, I don’t know how I am going to get us through that stuff right now. I’m struggling too. I can barely breathe through the grief- and I know it’s not just you that’s freaking out now. The entire minibus is screaming… again. I am sorry. I never in a million years she’d do this to us. I never thought she’d walk away knowing what she knows and the damage it would cause. It’s no wonder you’re falling apart. But just hang in there with me, ok? We’ll find a way.
The other day I was telling Elle about some of what has happened to you. Don’t worry, I didn’t go into all of it, but I think you heard enough, and it’s spooked you a bit because there’s the very painful stuff waiting in the shadows isn’t there? I don’t think you want me to go there. It’s been sitting with me for the last 23 years so it can wait a bit longer. I don’t know if I am ready, actually. The anniversary of all that horrible stuff is coming up and I don’t have to resilience I used to have to cope. I don’t feel like I can tolerate any more rejection…the feeling of constant disconnection is painful enough. Part of me knows that the path to connection is being vulnerable but actually vulnerable hasn’t worked out great for us, has it? I don’t know what to do…and I am meant to be the adult here!
I never let Em or even Anita near this stuff of yours so I can understand why you feel terrified of Elle who really doesn’t know us at all. And, honestly, I don’t know if she actually even cares… well, she doesn’t care. Of course, she doesn’t. This is just her job. So why would I expose you when everything is already so fragile?…not fragile…broken…the fragile stuff got smashed didn’t it? God this is so tough.
I like Elle but I can’t figure her out at all, and I know you can’t either because you’ve repeatedly shut things down in session and so False Adult has taken over and filled the space. I hear you screaming not to talk to her about Anita…because it’s not safe to do so. And I am listening. The thing is, I know I need to talk about what’s happened because it is killing me, but I don’t know if she is safe either. It’s a really tricky situation. I just don’t know if we can go where I need to go. I don’t know if it is me making it feel like this or whether it’s just the dynamic.
I feel like I am doing what I used to do with Em. I feel like it’s really ok to do the ‘head’ stuff but we are soooo needing the ‘feeling’ stuff. We need a relational experience and relational repair and containment and holding… but I don’t feel like there is a relationship. I feel chronically alone. Perhaps it’s because I’m hiding you and the little ones but ugh…it’s painful. I need a sense of there being an ‘us’ in the room, not just a ‘me’ being watched from the other chair. Wanting to connect feels dangerous and the idea reaching out but then being rebuffed feels worse. We’ve been there before so it’s not surprising we are tentative. The thing is, detached relationships feel so fucking triggering to us – but I also know our need for connection feels stifling…for Em at least. I don’t know what to do.
That’s probably not fair, actually. Elle has no idea of any of the stuff I find really difficult…and not just emotionally, but there’s the simple in the room stuff too. It all works together to make a fucking disaster, doesn’t it?!
UGHHHHHH!!!
Being sat opposite someone again rather than next to them feels really uncomfortable and exposing. The table between us feels like another barrier and evidence of the distance between us that will never close. I create enough glass walls to separate us as it is, but these physical barriers feel like being pushed away. It’s really tricky. I feel like I am under the spotlight and want to hide in a dark corner. I miss Anita being beside me – both literally and metaphorically. Now I feel tense. Exposed. Rigid. I don’t relax. I feel like I need a soft toy to ground…I think you do too. All of this is working against us. I cannot believe just how massive the loss of physical proximity and touch has been. I just cannot regulate at all, and this is causing you, especially, a lot of difficulty. I hate this so much.
Since that session where I talked about what it’s been like for you, it’s as though you have taken over my mind and body…which is probably why we ended up going completely the wrong way in the car the other day! I have been so dissociated, sometimes completely frozen, but mostly I am massively conscious of feeling like I want to self-harm…or worse. And I know that’s not me. It’s you. You are showing me and telling me that you have reached your limit. You have coped and coped and coped and now you’ve run out of coping. I get it. I have no idea what to do about it, though.
I can’t seem to find a way to make this better because my coping has gone too. I just can’t do this anymore. I can’t hold this pain. I sent Elle message and told her I want to leave and run away. I don’t think she cares, she’d fill the time just like Hannah, Anita, and Em. Clients keep coming on the conveyor belt.
I joined some dots in the week, and it was as though yet another trapdoor opened up and another cavern of darkness awaited us. Sometimes inner revelations don’t feel good – I guess this is why our brain hides so much from us- it’s protective. This reminder just felt massively upsetting. It’s been so fucking hard for you hasn’t it? Like always…
I can really understand why you felt so betrayed when I let Em know the extent of the eating disorder that was so active again in 2018. She’d told me that I could bring anything to the room and when I shared the details of the ED with her it felt like a massive weight had been lifted. I’d been holding this ‘secret’ for twenty years and I genuinely believed that we might finally get some help. But then she delivered the ultimatum about ending the therapy shortly afterwards and it felt absolutely horrendous. It had been such a massive exercise in trust letting her know that stuff and then all of a sudden, she was threatening to terminate.
Actually, it was too much for her. And you knew it, didn’t you? I still feel physically sick when I think about it. It was the same when we finally did come to the ending in 2020. She said we could work through anything and that I needed to take a step towards her, that I could express my anger…and then look… she was gone. You knew it would happen. I wanted to believe it wouldn’t.
Anyway, you reminded me why that all felt so bad this week. It wasn’t just Em betraying your trust. It was a replay of H wasn’t it? She did the same. I remember you finally telling her what was going on for you after struggling alone for two years with active anorexia. You hadn’t seen her since you were fifteen and the change in your body had been massive by the time you saw her. You were/are so unwell. She didn’t say anything at the time but when you got back home, she brought it up on the phone didn’t she? She seemed to really listen and after three hours talking you ended the call feeling like maybe things might be ok now – it was that same sense of relief I felt having told Em. There’s something so soothing in being seen…until what you’ve shared gets thrown back in your face.
Your eating disorder is really complex and really dangerous. It know you are desperately trying to cope with feeling out of control but it’s also hiding who you are, taking up less space. Maybe if you can just completely disappear all the pain that you are feeling will disappear too. I don’t think I have ever really looked back at how awful it is for you being in the closet, feeling completely alone and struggling with how you feel about H and your sexuality. I mean add that onto the abuse you’re being put through at home…it’s no wonder things are a mess. I feel that sick feeling in my solar plexus just typing this, so I know that pain hasn’t gone for you and needs to be explored… the fact I have been in therapy for most of my adult life and have never gone near this stuff really shows how vulnerable it feels.
Just like Em, H delivered you an ultimatum. But worse than that, she actually walked away. She told you you were too much and that she needed space. She said that we’d take three months … and then talk. That never happened. We never came back to talking about what happened. It was four years before we caught back up. I was twenty-one then and in a much better place but I’ve never really recovered from what happened for you then and there you are stuck carrying so much still. It’s all so raw. And then of course this all plays into what’s happened with Anita. We were meant to leave it three months so she could figure out where she was at. We were at least meet to properly end if she was no better. It’s five months in now…and we’re in limbo. You and I have been here before.
Rejection and abandonment… I wish I could remove these words from our vocabulary. I am so sorry. I don’t understand how this stuff keeps happening to us. People tell me it’s not me but it feels like I am the common denominator in all this. I don’t know what to do. x
Here’s the original:
Dear Seventeen,
I’ve just read your diary. Please don’t be mad. Wait and hear me out a minute. I know how angry you were when you woke up to find dad reading your diary on holiday in Mexico and how violated you felt back then; but please know that I am not deliberately prying into your private life or being nosy. I’m just trying to understand you better. And honestly, I am good at keeping secrets, in fact I’ve been holding onto yours for the last seventeen years of my life. I’m not here to judge you and I promise that you can trust me.
We haven’t met before. Well, I know all about you (more than you realise) but I don’t think you are aware that I even exist. I’ve been watching you stuck in your own private hell for a long, long time now. It’s like Groundhog Day for you in the year 2000 isn’t it?
Too often I have turned away from you when I should have reached out to you. I have ignored your pain and your suffering because I haven’t known how to help you. Sometimes I have wondered if you even want to be helped.
I don’t know if you know it, but sometimes you take over my body in the present (which, by the way, is 2018 and means you’re often roaming around a stretch-marked 34 year old bod’ – yeah I know, it’s not great – and to think you hate your body now is incredible!) and react to my current day issues as though you are being hurt again in the way that Mum and H hurt you. It’s like my life triggers flashbacks from your life and you (and I) are reliving the pain over and over again.
I can feel your anxiety and fear coursing through my veins. I can’t speak and I go numb. I shake. I feel your frustration. I haven’t know what to do and neither have you. I’ll admit that I have felt overwhelmed by your feelings. I know you have things to say but I also know that you are very very frightened. I understand how desperately alone you feel. It broke my heart reading your account of the pain you feel inside. I know how hard it is. I remember it well.
You feel like you have no one to listen to you and that no one cares. It feels so difficult to trust anyone. You fear getting close to people and letting them in because you think you’re going to be rejected or abandoned or ridiculed – and you don’t think you can survive it again. This year has been the hardest one yet, for you, and I am not at all surprised that you just want to run away from everything and anyone that might hurt you.
So you isolate yourself in order to avoid being hurt but you can’t be alone forever. In your heart, deep in your soul you know you need love and connection. We all do. I know it feels risky seeking that out. I know you fear annihilation. I get how scary it feels to consider opening up again after what’s happened. You are still heartbroken but the only way your heart is going to mend is through letting someone heal it with you; currently you have a handful of shattered pieces and no glue.
There is no shame in wanting to be loved. You needn’t be embarrassed for feeling love either.
You probably won’t believe me (who can blame you after all you’ve been through); but if you can find a way to trust me, I think that I am the person that you have been waiting for. I can help you, listen to you, and love you…if you’ll let me. I really want to make things better for you – for both of us- because right now your pain is my pain and it’s crippling the pair of us.
I’m so sorry, so very sorry that circumstances have made you feel like you are not worthy of love and care. How things have been with mum are not a reflection on you. None of how she has been with you is your fault. You are not unlovable or untouchable even if that’s how you’ve been made to feel over the years.
How things have been for you growing up isn’t normal. I think you know that but really acknowledging that is devastating. You have suffered emotional abuse and neglect at the hands of the person that should have loved you and protected you the most. I assure you that there is absolutely nothing you could have done that would have changed how things have been for you.
I know that’s hard to hear, but I think you need to hear it and try and take this in. You carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. You feel responsible for everything. And darling, some things are simply beyond your control. No matter how good you are or how much you achieve, there are some things you cannot change or control. You can only be responsible for you and not for the actions of anyone else.
What I will say, though, is this: it won’t be long until you are able to start getting away from some of the horrid stuff. Next year you will leave home and go to university, you’ll fall in love (really!), and things will start to get better. I promise you it won’t always feel this bleak. Until then, though, I’m afraid you’re just going to have to hold on tight and keep putting one foot in front of the other like you always have. I know it feels impossible sometimes.
Despite everything that has happened you are still here. You are a fighter. I know there have times when you have been very close to the edge. I know there are days you have thought about driving your car into a wall or overdosing or paddling your surfboard out to sea and never coming back. I felt the pain of each cut you made, and every burn on your skin. I know how you starve yourself. I see how regularly you purge everything from your system. You are punishing yourself over and over again for something that is simply not your fault. I don’t hate you. Why do you hate yourself?
You’ve lost sense of your value – or maybe, more accurately, you have never felt valued or loved. You feel worthless. Don’t get me wrong, I know why you feel this way. Steady and systematic emotional abuse does this to people. Now you feel like you are acting your way through life. You have little idea of who you are because you’ve spent so long trying to be what everyone else wants you to be that you really don’t know how to be yourself. You’ve struggled so hard against yourself for the last couple of years not wanting to disappoint anyone but inside you were dying.
I am so unbelievably proud of you. Coming out was massive. I know right now it feels like the worst thing you’ve ever done and you feel more lonely than ever; but those people that walked away from you, called you names, and bullied you were not your friends. I am telling you that even though it was scary and is still having a huge impact on your day-to-day you have made a huge leap forward into living authentically as who you really are. I know it takes a huge amount of courage to stand up and speak your truth but six months from now, you’ll be surrounded by people who love and accept you for exactly who you are and those people will become lifelong friends – chosen family.
I also want to say thank you. What for? For looking after the little ones. You are a force to be reckoned with, for sure! They are very lucky to have you as a protector. I know it’s difficult living your life when you continually have distraught children demanding your attention. It is not your job to hold them. It was never your job to look after them, but in the absence of an adult to care for them, you’ve done a brilliant job.
I have children (a boy and a girl). I see a lot of you in them because I remember you as a child, too. You were innocent and vibrant and full of life. You had so much love to give and then something happened and you started holding everything inside and that light you exuded steadily faded until it is now barely a flickering flame inside you. I know right now you feel bereft because, to you, coming out equates to you never having children and you so desperately want to be a mum. I’m not a time traveller but I am telling you this – children are going to be part of your future and that flame will burn brightly again in the love you have for your babies.
You are incredibly strong and I recognise just how much effort you put in to surviving. Sometimes the best you can hope for is just to keep on keeping on. You’ve done amazingly. Don’t roll your eyes! I mean it. The fact that in the face of so much pain you have still somehow held it together, passed your exams, can drive, and are alive is testament to your spirit. You are so driven and this is a good thing. It’ll take you a long way in life. But do you know what? You need to learn to relax too.
You need to let your hair down every now and again and have fun. You are so serious – so grown up- because you’ve had to be. As I said earlier, I am here now, for you and for the little ones – if you want me to be. So I am giving you permission – please relax and start to heal. The adult you all need/ed is here now. I’m not super woman but I promise you that if I can be there for you when it starts to feel scary then I am going to be there – and I am not going anywhere.
Things aren’t going to feel better overnight, I think we both know that. If things are to improve then we are going to need to work together on this. And so there’s something I need to ask you to do for me. I know you know about the therapist that I see each week because sometimes you hijack my session and stamp your feet a bit; or sometimes sit there silently raging and planning how you’re going to hurt yourself when you get the chance. Between you and the little ones there’s not a great deal of space for me in the sessions. I am, in no way, complaining about this, but I was wondering something.
I know you really like therapist but it feels risky to have feelings for her. You are attached to her just like the young ones are, ok perhaps in a slightly different way, but you do love her. And that’s ok. You want to be known by her. The idea of her really seeing you is both appealing and terrifying. Sometimes you let her see you, the real you, and other times you shut her out. When you feel close to her the alarm bells ring and you instantly back away.
Look, I’ve known this woman for six years now and I’ve been in therapy with her for three. I trust her but it’s not me that needs to talk. I’m ok. Do you think that maybe you might tell her how things are for you? Or if you can’t, do you think maybe I could tell her for you?
You’ve been holding onto this pain for such a long time, and I have been sitting on your secrets for as long as you’ve been alive and I think it’s time for us to move on.
Nothing quite screams depression like zombie-ing it through the day feeling like you’re about to collapse, then the moment the kids are safely in bed taking yourself off to bed and then sobbing your heart out, huge tears, snot, literally wailing, face down on your bed well into the early hours, then texting your ex-therapist that you love her (groan), and then finally when the tears subside, raiding the fridge for a mini pork pie at 2am… and I don’t even really like pork pies, but turns out I’d ‘forgotten’ that eating was a thing yesterday until I’d had my breakdown. It’s been that bad. The young parts have had a collective meltdown and I just don’t know where to start with strapping them all back in the bus because I think it freewheeled off over the cliff edge and exploded.
I’m trying to make light of all this, but actually it’s really not funny. I feel awful. Some of it is hormonal – but that’s only a really small part. PMS is just exacerbating an already intolerable situation. I feel completely and utterly broken now. It’s weird. I hadn’t realised just how much having Hannah (new therapist) on board was creating just about enough of a dam so that things didn’t flood out. I mean it’s been really really hard in the last couple of months. One therapy session is certainly not enough to hold how I feel, and a new therapeutic relationship is harder work, but at least it was something, a bit of a scaffold if you like – and certainly better than nothing at all.
It would have been a break from therapy for this next couple of weeks anyway, which would have been tough enough – I knew I was going to have to dig deep because alongside no H I wouldn’t be able to see K or have a massage with N – basically I was on my own for the first time since Anita and I ended – yikes. However, knowing that I actually have no therapy at all now to hang on for, or return to is… hard. And I simply don’t have the emotional energy to go through the process of searching for someone else, sending the emails, doing all the communications, and then having to start over AGAIN.
You might be wondering what the hell happened. How have I broken a therapy in only eight sessions? I mean, crikey, that’s impressive, isn’t it? Well, it’s complicated…or maybe it isn’t. I don’t know. It’s a mess, that’s for sure. I don’t even know how to write this because as much as think I protect mine, and my therapist’s privacy, ultimately the thing that’s thrown a spanner in the works is this blog.
Groan.
There’ve been eight sessions and this is the first I have got to it – when it is over!
When I met H I immediately liked her. A few things struck me about her – she seemed to have a good sense of humour, she seemed to actually be interested in what I was bringing (well, that’s the job right?!), and she seemed to be my intellectual match (actually, I think if I’d come across her in the real world she’s the sort of person who I would be friends with). I know that sounds like a really weird thing to say (the brain stuff!), but actually I really need someone to meet me where I am at to do this work because I have the capacity to run rings round therapists. It’s not deliberate. It’s a defensive/protective thing that means I can hide my vulnerable parts – but this time I really needed someone to get through my walls because, understandably I am in a cold war bunker right now after my most recent experiences in therapy.
I found that I felt reasonably at ease with H even though parts of me hated everything about being in a new room with someone that wasn’t Anita and wanted to run away. I was able to outline quite a bit of what had happened with A and how I felt as well as some other things that have happened in my life. It was coming from the False Adult self’s perspective but that’s fine – she gets stuff done and protects my little parts. Those small ones are so hidden around others right now that it was never going to be a go in and fall apart and collapse in a puddle on the floor situation – even if part of me felt like that’s what was happening inside and could have done with it!
It was always going to take time to build trust, but I thought that it would be a good enough fit for now and eventually the relationship would develop. I knew that I could never cry (even if it’s screaming inside) in that room because the parts that needed to feel safe just didn’t – and that’s not H’s fault – it’s a time thing and a lack of relationship, but it was fine for now, because I have been crying plenty outside of it so it’s not like I am not releasing emotions…and it would come eventually…maybe.
I realised early on that I was intellectualising my experience, and whilst that’s fine, it doesn’t really get beneath the armour and into the agony that I am feeling. And it is agony. It’s annihilation for the youngest parts. However, I also knew that I needed to lay the groundwork and I would never just go to someone new and let my guard down and I knew the process can’t be rushed so I knew it would take time ESPECIALLY because I’ve just been hurt so badly in therapy. Because I was so stuck in my brain and doing the articulate, ‘this is how it is’ stuff I think it created a dynamic where H probably thought I was looking for solutions and to problem solve the situation which sometimes felt like I wasn’t being seen…but then that’s because I wasn’t letting her see me! I think she wanted to dig down but also knew I was resisting.
Sometimes she’d suggest things, and whilst adult me probably would quite like to go on a retreat one day, right now that isn’t what I need. I am not in need of a journey of self-discovery. I know who I am…I know all the parts of me, their fears, triggers, and what makes things better. The issue I have is the person that helped make it all better has gone before the work was done – it’s been like learning to ride a bike and suddenly whipping the stabilisers off when I was nowhere near ready for that – and I was confidently pedalling along and whoosh -it has floored me.
There are grazed knees, bruises, broken bones even, and what’s worse, no one to help. The little ones are crying on the floor…hurt and abandoned again.
What I really need is someone to sit with me in the grief and make space for all those small parts to feel safe enough to talk about how bad it feels to have Anita gone. I don’t need anything more than that. Of course, that’s where the issue of intellect comes in because whilst I know what I need, I am defending against it and any time H would tentatively edge towards the vulnerable stuff I’d literally tell her no. And so, we’d go back to trying to think of ways to make my day-to-day better.
I would always take my shoes off and curl up on the couch at Anita’s but my shoes remained on and firmly rooted to the floor in the new room with the new therapist – I wasn’t wholly relaxed, and whilst part of me would have loved to have been able to go and sink into the space and perhaps take a soft toy with me to help soothe the parts that are never going to be held again, I just wasn’t there yet. I think, now, I actually probably need an invitation to do these things because I am so scared of being too much. I am so terrified of being vulnerable because I just can’t be hurt and rejected AGAIN.
I realised I had a way to short circuit some of this errr resistance, protectiveness, or whatever it is a few sessions in. But how? Well, I mean I have this blog, don’t I? This is me. Vulnerable and unarmoured. I took a leap of faith and emailed H and asked her to read some posts I’d written because I was struggling with feelings of shame and didn’t know how to break through it. I thought maybe seeing stuff would allow H to know what it’s been like for me and to really see the level of attachment work I’ve been doing…I mean it’s basically been reparenting.
I had mentioned that A had read me stories, hugged me, and given me gifts in session and I felt H bristle a bit even though she hid it well. And I’d felt this a couple of times round other things I had mentioned about how Anita and I had worked. I know how it’s not really in the therapy training modules to work how Anita and I have – but actually it’s not uncommon especially with C-PTSD. H is a relatively new therapist and I think that coming across someone like me and this kind of situation with two therapies that have left me reeling is new territory for her. Or at least I’d hope so because frankly, it seems all too bloody common for those of us here, doesn’t it?
Anyway, she agreed to read my posts over a few weeks, and I think it helped her see what things have been like for me even if I couldn’t tell her completely how it felt in sessions. As I say, I suddenly felt a lot of shame for having had the kind of relationship I have had with A because being in the room with H was such a stark reminder of what normal talking therapy is like. Part of me felt like maybe it was wrong how Anita and I were because I felt like H probably felt it was. And yet in my heart and for those little ones I really refuse to let that take root because how we worked, and that relationship did me such a lot of good for such a long time and it was through that closeness, I was able to get down into the trauma and for the first time in my life feel held and safe. It was Anita’s willingness to meet me exactly how I needed that moved such a lot on. And despite everything that’s happened – the love was so there and it was real…
It’s just an absolute killer that that therapy has been cut short when it has because it’s now so traumatic losing A and the work wasn’t done. It hasn’t reached its natural conclusion, the individuating and moving to independence, and an end because the client was ready…I just wasn’t there yet and so it’s now just another abandonment and rejection to deal with.
Anyway, if I felt shame in the room with H and it stopped me talking then I could at least circumnavigate that via the blog posts and keep things moving forward. I felt like allowing H to see the blog was giving her the map and things seemed to be going ok. It was also a massive exercise in trust.
I had been really guarded for the first seven sessions, then last week something shifted a bit. I don’t know if it was just that I felt like I was getting to know H or what, but we had a more real and vulnerable conversation. Somehow, WordPress had refreshed when H was reading a post I’d sent and taken her to the most recent one I had written about how I had gone about selecting a new therapist. It didn’t talk about the new therapy or her, but it mentioned her. She told me she’d read it and asked if she was Hannah. Initially it shocked me that she’d read it because it wasn’t something I had directed her to. I mentally had to track what I had written as we started talking – but actually there was nothing there other than more reference to Anita and the messages I had sent since we’d finished.
H explained that she’d had a bit of a reaction to realising that she might be in a blog and that it had made parts of her feel vulnerable, and probably tapped into some insecurities but that she’d take it to supervision. I said I understood that, and we talked a bit around it all. It felt like a connecting conversation and I left feeling that for the first time probably we had actually met each other on a deeper level. On the way home from the session I did a lot of thinking and I realised that that I really didn’t want H to feel awkward or for this to get in the way of the therapy and so I sent her an email explaining a bit about the blog and the anonymity etc. That evening I started to get a bit of a sick feeling – anticipating a reply. I had hoped that the blog wouldn’t turn out to be a problem but deep down I could feel that it was going to be.
She replied at length the next day. I won’t copy it here because, ultimately, what came out of it is that she is not comfortable being included on a blog and so I don’t want to disrespect that by putting her words/email here. Essentially, boiling it down, she said that whilst she thinks my writing is a great way to process, she won’t work with me if my experiences of therapy are on a public blog even if it is anonymous because she feels it will affect our developing relationship. She would, instead, want me to write privately and only share it with her.
Basically, I think she feels vulnerable and as if her practice is being scrutinised and no amount of me trying to explain that that’s not how it is will change that which is a massive shame.
She tried to make it land as softly as she could and said she hoped it didn’t feel rejecting, or patronising, or attacking … but, it kind of does – the timing is just crap and it feels like the rug has been pulled out from under my feet. I know I had a choice, I could have stopped writing the blog and kept seeing her…and I do get it from her side. She doesn’t know me and how does she know I would never expose her… but I just wouldn’t. I never have with Em or Anita despite what they’ve done to me.
The world is changing such a lot in regard to social media and it’s not uncommon now for clients and even therapists to have TikTok accounts or Instagram accounts with videos detailing therapy. Obviously, therapists can’t speak about clients directly, but lots anonymise interactions in books and articles or talk about general experiences online…some are in ‘therapist’ Facebook groups and aren’t even discreet at all asking about issues in their current practice. ‘I have a client who does x… what should I do?’
So whilst I get it – I also don’t. I feel like I trusted her with a massive part of me and it’s backfired.
Em was Mrs Boundaries (wasn’t she?!) with years and years of experience in the NHS and privately, and Anita has twenty under her belt and neither one of them ever once told me that my blog was a problem or that they wouldn’t work with me because of it. In fact, both of them encouraged me to write it – even if Em once really struggled to read one of the posts after we’d had a massive rupture and were trying to process what had happened together. My blog has never been a huge part of my therapies, my therapists don’t read all my posts, but there have been times when I have written and shared it with my therapists, and it’s been so helpful. But mostly – it is my space to process and my support network.
We all know how useful this space can be for us – and so ultimately, I had to make a horrible decision. And as much as I don’t write as much as I used to, or in the way that I used to (there is no session-by-session accounts anymore and it’s more general or after the event), and the blog sees much less engagement than when I would write regularly, I decided that I couldn’t drop the blog in order to keep the therapy and I wrote an email to outline why:
Hi Hannah,
I’ve tried to formulate my thoughts on this, but there’s a lot of conflict inside and so it’s been really hard to try and listen to all that and give it space. Firstly, though, I just want to say that I am really grateful to you for having seen me when things have so spectacularly disintegrated with Anita. I had hoped that we would, over time, build a good enough relationship to do some of this work, and felt that Thursday had been a shift into something more real and less guarded, but I did also get the sense that this was what you were going to come back at me with after I emailed you so had been preparing for this.
On reflection, letting you see the blog was clearly a mistake – if I hadn’t have shown you, you’d never have known about it, and I guess we would have continued on. As it’s not identifying, had you have ever come across it by chance you’d never have known it was mine. As you said, lots of clients journal, some might bring that to sessions, but actually lots blog, too, now – especially younger people (not that I am young now!). The thing is, I’m not a liar and don’t deliberately conceal things in therapy because I actually think it’s useful for you, or whoever I work with, to know about it and see it here and there when it’s relevant.
I let you into this place in my world because actually it’s my most vulnerable stuff. I could really easily have hidden from you for months and months in the room and never have got beneath what’s really going on. I’m good at running rings round people and looking like I am talking about something important when it’s really just a screen for what’s underneath. The blog might feel exposing to you, but it completely exposes me – hence the fact that it’s anonymous but I wanted you to see it because ultimately that’s me…or the part of me that’s hurting and needs the therapy.
You might wonder why on earth I would bother writing and posting this stuff if it is so vulnerable and exposing? What purpose does it serve? I do it partly because it’s a creative process that allows me to process my feelings. It’s a kind of journal. It’s safely out on the platform and not sitting in my computer possibly being read by someone at home – that happened years ago when I would keep a journal on my laptop and it caused no end of friction. The blog is about me and my experiences and feelings – it’s not a spotlight on the therapist, although I can understand how it might feel that way from your side.
Another reason I write publicly is because it was finding someone else’s therapy blog when I was seeing Em that completely changed things for me. I was in such a bad place. I was constantly dissociated, swimming in shame, and feeling like there was something very wrong with me. I was chronically anorexic and basically just a fucking mess but I was in therapy once a week so surely what I was experiencing was normal…nope. It was finding this person’s blog, that made me feel like there was someone else in the world like me, that I wasn’t somehow defective for feeling how I felt, and it went a long way to dispelling the shame and embarrassment I felt in the therapy…and in my general existence. It was this blog that first introduced me to the idea of structural dissociation and parts.
It also allowed me to see that therapy doesn’t all look the same way and doesn’t have to be a horrible experience of feeling inadequate and defective. It also highlighted to me that big feelings happen in therapy, it’s not always plain sailing, that ruptures happen and can be navigated effectively and you shouldn’t fear being ‘too much’ all the time, or at least if you feel that, that it can be worked with rather than being reinforced. I was always so concerned about not being viewed negatively that I ‘behaved’ – basically spent my time hiding in the room until this point when I realised that actually you ‘should’ be able to bring all of yourself to therapy, not just the bits that seem palatable. The thing is the bits I felt were unpalatable weren’t the angry parts or the teen – it was the youngest, most needy ones. It’s horrific feeling so many feelings but also feeling so embarrassed and ashamed that you dissociate all the time. I mean it doesn’t help when the therapist confirms that narrative of being too much… but there we are.
Clients have no idea what to expect when they enter therapy – TV doesn’t really depict it and books…well, like I say, they’re written from therapists’ and academics’ perspectives. Perhaps the closest we get to something is work by Carolyn Spring but even she doesn’t really delve into the depths of the relationship. Clients just don’t get a voice. The reality of therapy and how it can be is a big void, the unknown. You just go in and give it a go, not knowing what is possible or what to expect but honestly, face planting into attachment injuries is no fucking fun and is actually terrifying.
There’s a lot of good therapists out there, I am sure (maybe!), but there’s also a LOT of bad, and it’s all hidden behind closed doors. The power is so unbalanced from the get-go in therapy and clients, are out on a limb, we’re pretty isolated because most of us don’t talk about our therapy with people in our day-to-day lives. I totally get that lots of clients are ‘easier’ than me, or the people I come across, but Complex Trauma is really a minefield in therapy, and we need all the help we can get both inside and outside the room…but that’s not easy.
My wife knows nothing of my therapies, or what’s happened in them. She doesn’t even know your name. I haven’t said a word about any of it to anyone. I don’t talk to my friends in my everyday world about it because – well – can you even imagine? I felt you bristle when I told you about Anita and how it had been with her, and you’re a therapist, so imagine having a coffee with a friend and trying to explain to them that you feel suicidal because someone who you’ve seen for years, who has read you stories and held you for hours without words just so you can hear their heartbeat, and worked extensively with your young parts, and essentially been a mother figure to you, has dumped you!
If I said that my young selves were totally broken and feel like self-harming – they just wouldn’t get it. If I said that I miss her and cry most days – most people would think I was a fucking lunatic because how could anyone understand? Most of my friends are lucky enough to have had good enough childhoods so they don’t understand the mother wound at all. I mean I guess you don’t either [for x reason]. And yet it is breaking me inside. I have this great coping exterior, but I am so tired of trying to hold it together with my rubber bands and chewing gum. All I want to do when it’s like this is be back in that familiar space, with Anita who knows me inside out, and put the weight of the world down and fall asleep. My nervous system is … fucked.
Only she’s gone and no one knows or gets it…except these merry band of bloggers.
It was so helpful to me to alight on a community of people who experience similar things to me because there are a lot of us out there with significant trauma and attachment injuries and we speak a language that most people just don’t understand. In fact, lots of therapists don’t understand it either. When I talk about what feels like a black hole in my chest that has edges that are ulcerated and there’s just a sense of falling through an endless abyss because there has never been any containment or holding for parts of me… they get it. Therapists don’t. If you haven’t felt it, you just cannot begin to truly know how fucking debilitating it is. It’s beyond words. It’s trauma so deeply locked in the body from a pre-verbal time and it’s impossible to understand…but these people do.
I know that my blog has really helped other people and whilst I don’t feel like I have to write because of this, I do it for me first and foremost, it feels like it would be a shame to stop that when it has done such a lot of good not just for me but for others, too. I’ve been blogging for seven years now. It’s been massive in my processing and growth but at times it’s also literally been a lifeline. The handful of people that I know via the blog that have become friends have got me through some really tough times. When everything went south with Em it was that group of people that assured me that I was not a tick, that I wasn’t all the things that she made me believe and the Inner Critic was screaming at me. People that had followed my journey had seen how things had developed and were there to help me when I was completely alone in my ‘day-to-day’ life. Same goes with what’s happened with Anita. It’s a peer support network. And there’s no guarantee it would work out with you and then I’d be left totally stranded…again.
Clients are usually really discreet in their day-to-day lives about their therapy. Noone in my [county] world knows who Em is or Anita is or what they’ve done to me. I could have spoken to people in this area, used their names, slammed them, made public comments on their social media… but I haven’t. I haven’t done that on the blog, either. As I said, I never would because I’m just not that type of person. None of what I write is about wanting criticise practice…it’s about what’s happening to me. How what has happened has impacted me – good and bad. But it is sooooooo private. And I know that seems absolutely bonkers to say when it’s online, but it is.
Therapists get supervision and peer supervision…and personal therapy, and clients get absolutely nothing – and yet it is us who often suffer harm at the hands of therapists. As I say, it is rife. You wouldn’t believe it, or perhaps you might be beginning to. I don’t follow many blogs but five of my online friends have been terminated since October alone and are left to pick up the pieces. If it wasn’t for this network online, it would be really crap. I can honestly say that it’s been a couple of these people checking in with me on a daily basis that has got me through this recent shit show because it is pretty bleak inside.
Like last night, I dreamt about my daughter when she was a tiny baby, not old enough to support her own head. She was locked inside a car. I couldn’t get in to get her out. Someone had put her in a car seat but not strapped her in properly and she was slumped forward screaming and stuck. It doesn’t take a genius to see what that’s about…but I am literally stuck in this kind of loop. And I need help to reach into that stuff. But I see you an hour a week – and there one hundred and sixty seven others I need to get through.
You say you’d like me to continue to write in some kind of capacity and maybe process that together. I don’t know how I feel about that. I wanted to share stuff with you and that’s why I let you into that part of my world. My writing a blog doesn’t mean that part of the process gets skipped, it’s not like because I blog, I then withhold important stuff in sessions, and I can understand how that might be seen as a problem. As I said the other day, so much of a client’s experience never makes it into the room anyway and this is for lots of reasons – so sharing writing helps. I get you would prefer me to write like this, to you, and not online… I just don’t know how I feel about it.
Part of me thinks it’s not a huge deal because I don’t write like I used to anyway. I don’t write session by session accounts. But I think the biggest kick back I am getting is the fact I feel like my blog and whether I have it should be my choice.
I get that you’ve issued this ultimatum and I get that it’s where you are at. I understand how from your side you feel like me writing would potentially jeopardise the relationship because you would feel exposed. From my side, I know that if I stopped writing because you’ve told me I have to or that’s the end of things, and I agree to stop writing to try and keep the relationship, then I think there’d be parts of me that would really resent that. Here, yet again, is someone with power dangling the relationship over me and making it conditional. And that’s fine. I really do get it. And to be honest it’s such early days that I can just chuck this on the pile with Anita and process it all at once… but on my own.
I feel like I am done with therapy now. I can’t do this to myself again…which ironically kind of means the end of the blog doesn’t it? So why am I having such a strong reaction to your request? Don’t blog and keep the new therapist. Or have a dead blog and no therapist. Great.
I was trying to think of a work around – what would happen if I made the blog private accessed with a password, and it was there only for a handful of people that I actually have contact with… but then that doesn’t work because they can still see it and I don’t think given what you’re saying that would be any better. Then I thought I could try and write like I sometimes do about particular issues, like eye contact in therapy, or shame, or the mother wound…but then that all is through a lens of my experience so that doesn’t really work. I thought about not writing at all for a while – because I really have been AWOL on the blog for the last year – and seeing where things got with us but then I wouldn’t want to develop a relationship and then have the same ultimatum when I actually care more.
So, I don’t think I have a solution that works for either of us and so that just leaves it that I’ll have to say goodbye. It’s not that I value the blog more than I do spending time with you working together but it is/has been a really important part of my journey and I just don’t think I can cut off that support network in the hope that things, this time, work out…because things just don’t seem to work out where I am concerned with therapy.
Thank you for your time. I don’t see any point in coming in on the 10th because that won’t change anything. I don’t need help finding someone else. I thought I had done a good job this time around, but I’m just not interested in doing this again. I’m sorry that this has happened but to be honest I think you’ve probably dodged a bullet anyway. I know you haven’t meant for any of this to feel rejecting or attacking or patronising…I do get where you are coming from. This has to be a new record even for me, though, I usually manage three years before it goes to shit!
Take care,
RB
So, there we are. I haven’t heard back from her – I don’t really expect to as she’s on a break until the 10th. I imagine when she does eventually read it, I’ll get something back like:
Hi RB,
Thank you for your email. I understand your decision and I am sorry that we can’t agree on this aspect of the therapy together. I wish you well for the future.
Best wishes,
H
And that’s fine. That’s what they do isn’t it? It’s about the best I can expect from someone who’s seen me for eight weeks and doesn’t really care about me or know me. So, I’m ready for that. But there’s a part of me that feels massively disappointed about all this. I hate that I have had to choose between two sources of support because they are both important in different ways. It’s just awful timing, and whilst this is not anything like what Em or Anita have done, it is yet another example of me not fitting with a therapist, and my need being shelved as ultimately, we don’t have much power in our own therapies and the therapist holds all the cards.
Musing on counselling-related issues in the UK. I am a counsellor/psychotherapist and a client too. As the blog title suggests, my counselling journey began in the client's seat. For information about my counselling and psychotherapy practice see my website: www.erinstevens.co.uk
holding it together as I journey through therapy - a personal account of what it's like to be in long-term psychotherapy navigating the healing of C-PTSD, childhood trauma and neglect, an eating disorder, self-harming behaviours, as well as giving grief and cancer an occasional nod.
Rubber Bands and Chewing Gum 
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