My mother called tonight. I answered. I had my reasons and it was stupid to answer.
She is the original person who chuckled at pain and ignored cries for help.
With my therapist, I don’t know....
How do I approach this without the anger of a child being neglected?
I said to my psydoc in our first appointment - weary, teary and wary - “I don’t know how to do this” and she replied “You don’t have to. That’s my job.”
I can’t even imagine that happening. It makes perfect sense.
My old therapist laughed so much.... I mean... it was worse.
In the past, I wouldn’t have found it a relief to have a therapist who knew what to do more than I did. I would have seen it as a good thing that of course it’s their job to know, but I would have been distrustful.
Now. I want to trust. I want to let go. I’m so sick of all the defense mechanisms. Just sick of it!
I guess that’s why this is hitting me now. It’s not new thing for her to laugh too much, but it’s new for it to bother me like this. I want to be able to just let go.
My therapist tried to super analyze friends and others in my life recently. Normally, I’d think that was great. But I didn’t care. I ended up tearfully telling her I didn’t care, I’m the client, I’m in pain, it doesn’t matter what’s up for them, I’m here. Me. I hurt. I don’t want to analyze them anymore.
Whatever this shift is in me, it’s throwing us both.
Tonight I had a conversation with my mother, who is a mess. She wanted to help replace a few of the missing items (some were self employment related) and I’m conflicted. I can’t afford it myself but I don’t think it’s worth the cost of her help.
She wants to visit too and I was explaining now isn’t a good time. She’ll respect the boundary to not come now, but she has this habit of asking the most hurtful why questions that I think she actually means in not hurtful ways. She actually asked, “why did someone steal your purse?” Explaining “thieves are greedy that’s why they steal” is legitimately the answer. If I say that, she’ll say “oh.” It’s like talking to a child. That’s my mother about 25 percent of the time. I don’t understand it. No one does. She’s not developmentally disabled. She is highly dissociative and has no treatment and only speaks to me and one other person this way. She has even asked why was I raped... it took a lot time for me to finally understand I was talking to a child in an adult body.
I have an I-won’t-answer-why-questions boundary with her. My answer is always, “go ask a therapist. I can’t answer why questions.” Her “what” and “how” questions are more adult.
She is the person that first didn’t hear my pain.
So many times I could respond with “because monkeys fly out of my butt” and she wouldn’t blink an eye and would say “oh ok” if anything at all. Most of the time, it would be nothing.
Therapy should be the one place where I can get a response that helps me feel my pain. Not feel like I don’t exist or am humilated.
This therapist does listen. Even when I’m a jerk. She has good boundaries. She gets my stuff. I don’t want to quit. I just can’t sustain the laughing.
Weird thing is that I think she really wants me to bring these walls down. I don’t think we disagree - that’s why we both keep trying.
The anger.... I’m so angry about this. I need to get that under check. It’s coming out as make-myself-feel-real bad coping skills.
