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Is There A Label For Me Other Than "fool"?

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Well, I"ll see my T tomorrow and tell her what's been said here. She'll be pleased that I've been talking with people here. And she will also be pleased to know I'm planning to go back to artwork. I have enough talent to entertain myself sketching, as I do with writing short stories and my endlessly revised novellla.

I don't know how long I'll have her though. After 25 years of my foibles, she is hinting at retiring. That will be a loss to me. She has saved my life several times, and knows me better than even my daughter. She's irreplaceable to me. She was my wife's counselor, and the therapist for several other lost friends, so she is family. And it makes me sad to know I won't have our sessions to look forward to. At my age, there is no time to build a bond of trust like ours with another person.

I suppose I'll have to ask her for specifics tomorrow, just to be prepared. I've avoided thinking about it until now. But...Damn. She's second only to my daughter as a friend.

A therapist like her is a unique person in a client's life. She not only accepts me for all I am, she recalls everything I've said both in person and in thousands of pages of notes that no one else has read. And unlike other relationships, mine with her has been all about me without my feeling horribly selfish. That is because I get to pay her for her help, and she accepts that as fair. I know it would have been impossible for me to have paid her the full amount that she has been worth for a quarter of a century. Whew.

I know she deserves her retirement to rear her granddaughter, travel the rest of the world she hasn't seen (if there is such a place), and just rest after so many years of hard work on people like me. So I can't holler "abandonment" but that doesn't mean I won't miss her terribly.

Oh well, just musing to myself. I should have said all this in one of my journals.
 
Will be interested, should you choose to share, what your T thinks and how your session goes. Sending you warm thoughts and it is surely a blessing to have such a relationship with your therapist.
 
My therapist put my mind at ease about her "retirement". She's not quitting yet, just reducing her office days to three days a week, which she says she has been doing for months. She was very kind to say that if she does retire permanently, she will do so with at least a year's notice to her clients. And she agrees, we've been through a lot together, and she considers us her family also.

I brought that issue up first thing, since I wanted to be sure she knows how much she means to me. I really can't say how important she is. Earlier in the day, while talking by phone with my daughter, I mentioned needing to talk with our T about the issue. My daughter's response was, "She can't do that! She's timeless. She's like Meryl Streep!"

So I'm not panicked about that. I then told my T about starting this thread. She was happy that I have and that I've had some worthwhile suggestions. She also said that she has had a long list of guys like me who have had the tendency to fall for BPD women, sometimes marrying one after another.

She said that there is a nearly consistent thread among men in my situation. We often share general characteristics: care givers of course, very often artistic, educated, liberal thinkers, somewhat adventurers or risk takers, passionate, self-critical and some other traits I don't recall, but there's the general pattern. I identify with all of those.

She said that we first are attracted to the passion, intelligence, beauty or glamour in a woman, and quickly learn that our search for a passionate partner has paid off. We become blind to possible red flags of instability, so by the time we should begin to suspect serious problems ahead, we minimize the danger as something we can help overcome. Then we are trapped in never quite being generous or thoughtful enough.

So we invest more and more of ourselves, making concessions and overlooking our own boundaries on the diminishing hope of a turn-around, some kind of repayment or reward which never comes.

But my original question is still unanswered. I think I have been exposed to a greater proportion of seriously disordered women than most guys I know. Like most people, I start in a relationship based on physical and intellectual attraction. It is only later that there are any clues to instability. So how come? Why me? Do I turn women into predators?
 
Stinging tears today. An old wound opened by therapy yesterday, on top of having written so much lately about human frailty and loss. Kept hidden, protected in my heart, away from my faulty mind. It could be the missing piece, or it could reveal my worst. Only my sister would know, yet I can't bother her right now with that question.

My therapist told me in that special, solemn tone that cuts through the bullshit: "Ask Martha."

Can't say it now, but only drop cryptic hints, bread crumbs to follow. Going at least this far may help lift it outside of me, outside of solo journals. Is this like leaving the safety of prison after a 25-year sentence? Have I been punished enough? Or did I even commit the crime?

An old image I conjured decades ago comes back clearly:

A ragged, staggered, senseless soldier, sword arm slashing wildly, blinded by unseen cannon smoke, deafened by imagined battle roar in a weed-covered, open field. A spectre long forgotten by the enemy. Can he ever rest defeated? Or would that make him only another ghost? And is he even there at all?

Just babbling again.
 
You're OK. Hang in there. Confusion is change, likely to lead to some answers in the end. A new directio...

Thanks Seedling. I'm afraid of knowing what happened during some crucial moments of which I have no memory. I've denied that for many years, possibly manufacturing a fantasy to fill the gap. My sister will know, and will be kind enough to tell me when I ask. But I'll wait until some other matters are not pressing.

But I realized yesterday that I must know what I did or didn't do. I can't explain it yet until I've heard the truth. So many years that gap has lain vacant, and I've pretended it didn't exist. I can't excuse myself for it. I must truly have been out of my mind. I'm OK now. Just sadly afraid I failed terribly.
 
Some years ago on a solo road trip to the pueblos of the desert Southwest, I stopped for a while to talk with an old drum maker of the Tigua tribe. His inventory of handmade drums was magnificent. Each a separate work of art, made of elk hide stretched tightly over sections of hollow tree trunks covering both ends. He had masterfully painted the drumheads with tribal and natural symbols. There were all sizes, but one seemed extraordinary in its beautity and tone. I felt compelled to buy it and a matching, leather and hair covered drumstick.

On the road, I thought of where I might display it in my house. The organic paint design was of two stylized butterflies, varying in color, but mirroring each other's lines. It might have gone perfectly with my decor, but I wanted others to share my appreciation, so I gifted it to my therapist when I got home. It has become a popular part of her office. I did not notice until giving the drum to my T, that it had a title, a tiny tag on its bottom side named it "Butterflies of Change" I now think of it as symbolic of the anxious "butterflies" I and others feel about moving forward. Clients sometimes hold that drum in their sessions, and I have since found a substitute for it for my own use..
 
I fear I'm in trouble. Triggers are coming more quickly now, and I've done and said some things that don't fit me. My anxiety level seems to be rising to the surface, and I'm scared. I started this thread, but I ruined it, letting my mind wander. I don't know what is causing it or where it will end. I feel so much anger and self-humiliation that my terror of out-and-out incompetence or dementia is a daily burden. It is like something is shutting down. Or something never was.
 
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