What Feels Like A Therapy Blow Out - Guilt, Consternation, Fatigue.

[Resilientbibliophile]

Part III then...,

...following upon that last paragraph, it's a very difficult business to live inside of the space of another's projection - especially if that projection is colored by trauma. I knew what was happening and yet I didn't effectively see to my safety, or in full truth - hers. And yet...one gathers insights as to what would be required to really feel safe, desired, wanted, valued, etc. - especially as such is supplemented and expanded upon for being with a fellow academic.

Although probably voiced elsewhere across other messages written, I've found some of the gifted literature helpful given that what some might term asymmetrical development is given due consideration; i.e. that one might pursue academic interests so avidly as to be left behind somewhat given age, but also topic/discipline peers aren't strictly available and/or are in sight. I just hate playing catch up in a forty-three year old body even as I'm often mistaken for being younger. Certainly I don't wish to a poor choice for anyone, whereas how to disguise the longing - especially in public places?

I surely hope that I can reach that place where acceptance of self and others may be possible - and that might be within the halls of academia. I have no strict desire to join the 'Adjunct Army' of those soc. sci. majors who remain perpetually underemployed for market developments and structural economic change that precludes the achievement of tenure-track employment to all but the exhalted few. This said, just the tonal difference for being so-situated and so-aligned might help me greatly.

Hurting myself again for recall of what pains me most, memories of NYC where conversations began with very lovely and exceedingly poised young women began with "...oh, you too are a transfer - where from or from what insitution?". To hear places such as Bryn Mawr or Columbia University 'up the street' mentioned lent a severe (although not strictly intended as such) socioeconomic class element to such chatter, while peculiarities of my presentation (real or not) didn't disqualify me as some strict oddity not to affiliate with - back then.

What does the future hold? So many memories, solace in my materials and topics which tonally are much different than the sense of isolation that flares at times and will not ease its grip. I'm not even sure that sociology is that which most intrigues me given the immersion in recent years across other topics not strictly that. Thanks for reading and mulling my words, and special thanks for the kind interest evidenced by way of feedback...


M.

 

[Resilientbibliophile]

...a short Part IV then,

Yes - pressed against the limits of CBT if a CBT viewpoint isn't strictly rooted in some percentage of analogous literature and study even as my experience of C-PTSD clearly provides the 'battery power' for atypical perceptions. Those who study what I study are heavily invested in informing perceptions based upon the best materials that they might find, secure, study, and make their own within the limits of the possible and accounting for invariable errors from both the source material and the peculiarities of subjective experience. Those slammed by trauma are at special risk of evidencing distorted perceptions - hence the presumed utility of CBT.

For long study, I imagine I've tried to disentangle that which exists with my mind that is PTSD amplified from the basic soundness of perceptual tools, concepts, theories, etc. that I've reached for even as I surely was propelled to do so in sometimes fitful, but at othertimes creative response to the total and often unavoidable experience of C-PTSD. Doubtlessly many of the materials I've chanced across and value reflects the creative output of others like-impacted for sensitivity to what is suboptimal exists on a spectrum ranging out to what constitutes an outrage and must not stand.

At worst I just don't think my T. has enough in her perceptual tool kit to expect her verbalized impressions to carry the weight she imagines they have. Others wouldn't strictly be able to detect such, or would be drawn to matters I in turn would be oblivious to given my own alotment of blind spots, nil experience, etc. Sometimes a person is every inch the uncompromising narcissist who will not yield ground, who psychologically will not permit the possibility that others might know more or better. I dearly hope I'm not this, whereas there have been many times when I just wish my T. had some Vulcan-like capacity to position her hand just so on my temple to understand and appreciate in detail and in nuance why what may not be strictly be visible to her may in measure be visible to me. Thanks again...


P.S. Wouldn't it be serious fun to develop an especially nasty active placebo to administer such to psychiatrists who are given to cavalierly discounting the severity of nasty side effects experienced? Lock them in a room, worry not in relation to the utility of any intended effect in a psychotropic sense, but just to see them suffer a bit for headaches, gas, sexual dysfunction, nausea, etc. Oh - I might say - it seems not strictly effect at this dosage. Hmm - let's up the dosage! I'll be staffing my own personal eighth circle of hell doing this, so feel free to stop by...


M.

 

[Resilientbibliophile]

Quoting from Abstract then...:

There is a big difference between lack of experience/practice, fear of emotions and relationships and resultant over reliance on fact and the written word, and not having the capacity to read emotional and interpersonal cues.

For as long as I can remember I withdrew into the background, avoiding contact with others, relying on a small repertoire of courtesies, exceedingly brief phrases consistent with telegraphing modest good will, etc. to somehow pass through social space. Home at times was violent, whereas the only means to secure something like proximity to loved ones was to be very quiet indeed. A great deal of heavy criticism on the part of my father really didn't do my self-image much good at all, whereas I think he imagined I ought to have emerged from my mother's womb in full football gear with helmet, cleats, pads, jersey, etc. for such was how he fitfully conceived of fatherhood. I was the last of three children, the only male and far from expected, whereas to be so soundly rejected by my father and yet be the physical manifestation of one-half of a cheery Sears Holiday catalog father and son scene and not be afforded 'that' left me profoundly bewildered. What was I doing wrong not to be loved? So much for my inner child - there he is.

From the earliest days of primary school something was unquestionably off in relation to my interpersonal style, given attachment needs not met, indifference or hostility met with at home, etc. I was an emotionally fragile kid; i.e. quite easily upset in relation to reverses suffered, whereas reverses suffered both blunted and distorted my capacity to assert myself in any reasoned capacity regardless of tangible threat or felt need. I can write about it, but then I could really do very little. Friendships either weren't formed, or seemed to evaporate after a single visit. Tonally I could discern that the quality of life experienced by other children within environments where an equal relationship between parents who loved each other, etc. was markedly different than what I was witness to, whereas given I was only a child, all I could really telegraph back was a sense of resignation, shame, and a sense of being defective. I think I was withdrawing into an increasingly lush imaginative world even then.

Interventions were attempted by teachers and social worker staff then in place employing what awareness then existed, but know this was the mid-1970's looking at best into the 1980's in a decidedly lower-middle class circumstance. There were practical limits as to what could be discerned let alone done, whereas my presentation likely confused most social service staff I interacted with. Whispers of "...an alcoholic father" as well as persistent inquiry as to the possibility of sexual abuse didn't illuminate more than flash impressions of a certain superstructure that my case uneasily rested upon. I was failing across many spheres of my life, in pain then as in a certain qualitative sense I suffer now, although intervention that didn't quite match the promise of intervention wasn't quite what I desired then. To deflect such attention, I suppose I became the model of politeness even as needs weren't met. A wreck across so many spheres, but some semblance of a brave PR front maintained if only not to be tossed into the company of those children who excelled at acting out. I assumed the pose of pretending I didn't strictly have needs - however 'needs' might be construed.

It's peculiar that had I acted out perhaps more would have been done, and I'd not been afforded the luxury of slipping through the cracks. I wanted desperately to take shelter within the cracks, to hide in the shadows, to see registered on the faces of others looking on that something was quite definitely wrong even as they could do little to intercede. Many good people looked on, although there really was so much and to outsource the whole matter then would not have been possible. Some rigorous and holistic conception of family therapy might have helped my mother and my two older sisters both, whereas failure in this regard witnessed the deepening of my mother's depression, and the escape of my older siblings who quite legitimately sought to extract themselves from circumstantial woe in search of happiness however it might be configured.


M.

End Part I.

 

[Resilientbibliophile]

Part II then...

Thanks for indulging me for your reading such,

My mother, deeply conscious of something seemingly amiss if for no other reason that my father was deceased and largely absent from the scene long before his death, tried to involve me in presumably masculine sporting activities. Not a great experience in total, whereas even as I understand what she was trying to do, I'd much rather some attention be paid to possible academically-rooted inclinations if such may have been in evidence then. Hard though given the socioeconomic circumstance, the lack of awareness, the stereotypical standards that didn't really allow for atypical assertion - and all pre-Internet. Lost in the gray lower middle class suburbanscape where PTA meetings, cub scouts and brownie activities set the tone. Much of the tale isn't strictly evil, but circumstantially restricted and woefully underdeveloped for the severe isolation of all the characters. My whole family suffered in various ways for the pressures of the times, a certain lack of education and awareness that could be tapped or developed, real impediments manifest as constrictive gender roles, etc. Surely I didn't want others in my family to suffer - but we did.

Until perhap seventh grade I wasn't really able to maintain a friendship, whereas from seventh to eleventh grade the nascent homosexual underground formed an uneasy point of reference even as the pressure from without and within was high. Identity issues faced were severe - for who was I and what did I desire in turn? Bullying suffered was severe, whereas to affiliate with some friends who seemed suicidally swish invited their personal bullies to latch onto my own vulnerability and no-cost amusement for I wouldn't fight back. The marriages of nearly every friend's family across that period disintegrated - sometimes amidst scandal, whereas sometimes an outed friend would be kicked out of their home.

Ang Lee's fine portrait of an era, The Ice Storm with Kevin Kline, etc. very accurately echos aspects of the backdrop in which so much of this happened. The parents seemed to give up on parenting, withdrawing into themselves, embracing lifestyle options that just played in the background while our (speaking of my friends then) dramas became far more than we could reasonably handle. LGBT issues and awareness was nowhere to be found, bullying was hardly something anyone seriously spoke of, and socioeconomic mobility and promise of 'up and out' of this environment was being deconstructed as America entered the late seventies and uncomfortably embraced an era of diminished expectations.

It was truly awful in total; i.e. the sheer terror of whom might be looking on, what they might be thinking, regulating thoughts that could be construed as immoral, complications for inappropriate relations with an older sister, the sum total demonization of sexual stirrings for some fitful identification with the Catholic church, etc. John Hughes might have been able to put it all on screen and afford it a terrific soundtrack to boot, but to live it was landmark awful. By eleventh grade I was functioning so poorly that I my friends couldn't justify maintaining contact anymore, whereas I was loathe to continue upon an experimental and experiential course consistent with embracing a certain orientation - especially under the tangible threat of violence.

...and so into the social desert I wandered. No friends really from age 17 to 31 years, total enmeshment with my mother and that unhappy tale, and growing disgust with self in relation to a life not lived. Sorry - this whole thread is terribly self-indulgent - so completely about ME! ME! ME! Usually I just present a blank face to others when they speak of their childhood years for at least they can speak of matters worth remembering. I selectively black out substantial blocks, whereas little of this has made for happy reading. Thank you for your time and attention - I value the interest displayed and feedback afforded very much...


M.

 

[Luke]

"You push away love when it is afforded you"

I myself fell victim to a barrage of similar sentiments that were rather ardently & adamantly imposed by a therapist. I was nearly castigated for not allowing myself to be "open" to relationships, etc. There was an inimitable tone of compassion, that soon evolved or devolved into exasperation, then nearly an auditory air of stern judgement in her voice as she repeatedly reiterated these assertions. Yes, "victim" seems absurd, if not hyperbolic. However, considering I'd only known this person for 2 to 3 hours of discussion it seemed awfully forward of her to ridicule my boundaries as they pertained to such. There may have been an underlying precedent, but I won't delve into that.

I mean, she got into it man! She laid it like hot tar onto my lonely gravel coarse. She desperately felt the desire to pave the way for someone to enter my life unabated, or merely have me avail myself to a "relationship" without all the intellectual kung fu (if you will).

To be blunt, I mentally sparred with my therapist & won. It was effortless. I worked in & out of the plethoric verbal scales of grey laconic diversion & in variegated circles of eloquence like a rhythmic gymnast dodging shots in a in a spaghetti western.

In a word, "futility". Her aggressive approach galloping into the just desert of my my adroit defenses, spurred on nothing but her frustration & my futility. Soon I was just squinting into the sun, in an affable drawing of my own project, which abruptly ended after three one hour shots at my dusty reticence.

She placed so much importance on "relationships"... Well, it made me want to end our (professional) relationship! That's meant to be humorous of course, but also very honest & accurate. A bull's-eye of sardonic truth.

I do have regrets. Despite my disappointments, which are multitudinous, my greatest disappointment remains, & forever will be... myself.

With regards to "relationships", I have a proclivity for waiting. Waiting for everything to align... but incontrovertibly, it never does or will. It never does because as sedentary or dormant as I may seem, especially to myself, I am always moving my angels, always altering my precept, always bobbing & weaving to avoid that which may, yes, bring me disappointment or even pain. Yet, I can & do ask myself, "What is the alternative, this "safe" haven of languor? This languid deprivation that ebbs & flows in the same tidal thirst never to be fresh, cleansed, or conversely sullied by another, or even temporarily quelled?". These stagnant waters stink. Inevitably people paddle on. I rarely tend to wave them in to anything about which I feel unsure.

I am treading water in my own time as it lapses away along with the best people, things, & feelings, I may have shared. Everything & everyone passes me at their own pace & style, & I cannot deviate my stroke or my stride, because it always seems a great trepidatious & reckless leap, a mistake, I cannot, or will not make, once & again.

Anyway, those are my rambling thoughts after reading your first post in this thread.

 

[Luke]

...Good thing, I cut myself off there. Soon I would have been discoursing the atmosphere & flammable gases, completing the inane Earth Wind & Fire "funkscapade" of my introspective ineptitude. ;)

With regards to therapy, I, personally, regret not saying, "Ok ya got me", once or twice. Maybe there would have been something to be derived from a tad more docility on my part. I feel like I can learn something (even about myself) from everyone. I may have been pleasantly surprised at what she had to teach me.

Now, I don't even know how to go about finding another therapist. The CV's, with their quaint little robust mission statements, all read like ads on the back of a cereal box.

Good luck, in whatever you choose. I wish you well.

 

[Resilientbibliophile]

Hmmmm - I like that much better! I've never really had occassion to consider the utility of the 'IGNORE' function - and it works splendidly I tell you! The posts of those who would parody us VANISH! Wow - I just thought employing such would deactivate the alert flags, but no - I can't even see on my screen right now any evidence at all of the participation of a certain someone who thought it fun to hate in the night. I suppose what I'm about is wide open to parody, but I don't know - I can't imagine doing that to anyone here. Poor boundaries demonstrated by myself to the extent of rambling on endlessly no doubt, but thanks Anthony for affording the technological regulatory tools to turn off exposure to that. What sleazy use some English degrees are put to! Thank you to my friends...


M.

 

[Luke]

In no way would I ever intend to parody. Never. Please don't misconstrue, (if that in fact the case). I applaud your intellectual pursuits & you are clearly very erudite, eloquent, & intelligent. I, respectfully, enjoy your candor & theoretical explorations. I wrote that passage about my "just desert" after reading only your first post (for instance). It was merely a coincidence that you mentioned "the desert" in a following post, which I had yet to read. I would never parody you as such. For better or for worse, that is how I myself write &/or express myself. Never intended to parody you in the slightest. Accept my earnest apology if that was in any way an interpretation. Sincerely.

Great :( To the community at large, please pass on these sentiments if feasible.

 

[Resilientbibliophile]

Greetings,

Further work then, and some good titles turned up. Sometimes I'll chance across what might be termed atypical nonfiction titles and topics that have application even if they don't formally fall under the category of formal trauma literature. I suppose the latest discovery are those works illuminating possible psychological hurdles and/or limitations bachelor's face regarding matters having to do with relating effectively to other people, entertaining, sustaining and being present within relationships, etc. No strict trauma history is assumed, but matters related to emotional distancing, fear of the expression of any emotion (presuming that the only emotion one really harbors is anger), idiosyncratic behaviors that become entrenched for socioemotional isolation over time, etc., really are effectively handled across two titles thus far collected. I didn't know these strictly existed, hence a welcome surprise these. Two titles thus far:

Waehler, Charles A. Bachelors: The Psychology of Men Who Haven't Married (1996). The last three chapters are especially strong.

...and

Weisman, Carl, M.S. So Why Have You Never Been Married? 10 Insights Into Why He Hasn't Wed. (2008). I haven't yet started this title, but well regarded it is.

Both the Weisman and the Waehler title speak of many issues that pertain to a circumstance such as my own less the severe experience of much. Cultural attitudes towards men whom are evidently isolated, case studies in relation to justifications and rationales established within the experience, typical defense mechanisms employed, etc. Further aspects may include positive justification for not moving or evolving towards different social circumstance, witness statements attesting to the cost of remaining static and yet longing for different circumstance and presumably better interpersonal functionality, etc. For this writer this seems a promising literature to examine, and I hope to draw valued insights from the study of the same.

-

On another front, I think it would be wise for me to examine D.W. Winnicott's title from 1972, Holding and Interpretation. A scholarly examination of the balance that is struck between unconditional acceptance and critical feedback consistent with provoking reaction and maintaining tension consistent with evolving the clients perceptions and behaviors. I think I'd be well served to better understand the framework of what is being done, act out less here, and move myself towards a better place, a better adaptation, etc. Thanks and kind regards...


M.

 

[Resilientbibliophile]

Greetings,

Just as an aside, there was a time when I was so desperate for interpersonal contact with anyone that I was dispositionally unable to discern when I was being subject to malicious manipulation. I strictly discounted evidence visible all around me for I so needed some trace validation that I was alive, that I mattered even if I was the subject of abuse. It's really easy to identify a mark if the 'mark' is so willing to be manipulated and abused. It's also rather difficult to support 'the mark' if no capacity to defend or to engage in corrective action consistent with the preservation of self can be detected. How long it has taken me to recognize that. It doesn't strictly address the topic of the need for interrelation with other social beings in a condition of scarcity, but such awareness does bring some needed order to a certain social jungle where predators very much exist.

At least if a volume of snark is directed towards myself here, I can both block it and take comfort that the calories burned by another will not have been directed towards others across this board. He won't have time or attention to 'render his service' to others perhaps less robust to challenge (i.e. ignore) it, and his inert flame of hatred can burn bright while others (happily) won't sense it. Thanks and kind regards...

M.

 

[Luke]

Inappropriate & nearly unfathomable. "Malicious manipulation"? Good grief. I have never been accused of that. So kudos on that moon landing of absurdity. Sir, you have misconstrued my intent & content drastically.

I don't know how to apologize for your misinterpretation of what was merely an attempt to relate & share my own (apparently insignificant) experiences that may be (through some crystalline kaliedescope of foolish endeavors) possessive of even a dearth of any conceivable similarity to anything you've ever crossed paths or been through at any point in your life.

I don't really appreciate being made out as some sort of intellectual bully, or a thug of any sort. I tend to think anyone who has spent of thought & time with me would staunchly disagree.

Regardless, I will issue yet another apology (in vain I suspect) for simply making light of myself, & emphatically only myself as i tend to incorporate both imagery & levity in the little desciptions of my travails, recapping my therapeutic ineptitude by recounting my own experiences. Experiences, I idioticly thought may relate to you in some modicum of affinity or empathy regarding your studious nature & plausible defense mechanisms, etc. I should note you repeatedly welcomed responses.

None the less please excuse what you perplexingly misconstrued as an impropriety, & congrats... You are correct. I will not trouble you or anyone here again, as you have clearly inferred I do. Sigh. This is not exactly beneficial fodder for me, so I have bowed out. I have no desire to scuffle with you via verbose aspersions. I am only responding to this for the sake & intersst of dignity & clarity.

I'm not sure how earnestly wishing you well could possibly be construed as manipulative or offensive. Despite your (what you deem as somehow justified or rational) "retaliatory" personal attack... I do wish you well.

In conclusion, this is the final olive branch I extend to you. Swat at me with it if you like. Whatever serves your benefit. I am apathetic in this regard.

 

[Resilientbibliophile]

Greetings,

Closing out this thread - as would seem best. The other party is advised to go to the park, pull legs off of spiders, employ a magnifying glass to torch ant hills, or spear frogs - just like old times. You are owed nothing. Slipshod encounter therapy isn't what anyone needs - especially delivered by a faceless and anonymous nobody sending messages from God knows what circumstance.

M.