So, I went to therapy with lots of trepidation. I picked up my pink stress pig from the table by where I sit and immediately MT ( my therapist) commented on how it had been months since I touched that pig. It has been, but last week, I woke up one night in the middle of the week, panicking, because I was sure that pig was no longer there and, if that pig was no longer there, it meant that MT was sick of me. When I walked into therapy yesterday, I was quite relieved to find that pig there still and I picked up because I was so anxious and putting my fingernails in that pig was way better than putting them in my skin.
When I arrived in the waiting room, I had reviewed all of the posts I’d written recently, and I brought them into the office and placed them next to me in case I could not get the words out of my mouth and needed MT to read them. After MT commented on the pig, I just started talking. I talked about crying for a couple of hours after my last therapy session and wanting to hurt myself, but not. I talked about what a struggle I’ve had since MT came back from vacation. My voice was trembling and tears were building up in my eyes. MT softly said that she thought she knew what I was going to say. I looked at her and shook my head and she said that I should keep talking, that she would listen until I was done. So I talked about the decision in July to really work on grieving everything that had happened to me and then the traumatic PAP smear in September and surgery in November and how I had pretty much stopped that grieving process and it was time for me to get back to it, even if she thought it was silly or redundant or malingering or whatever. She stopped me and asked what would make me say that. I told her that she keeps saying that it’s time to let go and I’m not ready yet. If I don’t process it the way I think I should, it will probably come back to haunt me again. MT asked if I haven’t heard her say that it’s time to get back to grieving so I can let go. Nope, I have not. I just hear it’s time to let go. Whoa. What is up with me? She also asked me if I thought she would say that was over and done with after two months. Well, a few weeks ago, I wouldn’t have thought she’d say it was long enough, but lately, I’ve felt like I was battling her to get to something needed to do before I let go. She agreed that the last few weeks have felt like a battle, but she was not sure about what. Then MT told me she thought I was going to say that I was done with her and I was going to find a new therapist. I told her that I had definitely been considering that. She told me that she was glad to hear that because she had been wondering if perhaps I had done as much work as I could at this point, and hearing me say that I had considered a new therapist, yet come to her saying I needed to grieve told her I was definitely ready for the rest of the work. Then she told me that she’d been watching me and was ready to intervene if I said I was leaving. MT told me she would not have let me go without some sort of a discussion. She asked if I didn’t know she was always watching and assessing. I said lately I thought she was just biding her time until I stopped being dramatic and difficult. MT looked puzzled for a minute when I said that, and then said, oh, I get it, you’re looking at me as if I was your mother, you’ve got some transference happening. And yes, once she said that, I realized it was true. I have not been looking at her as the good mother, I’ve been looking at her as though she were my actual mother, with whom I was not allowed feelings and was told I was difficult and dramatic if I displayed any negative emotion. No wonder I’ve been battling MT and no wonder I have not heard the it’s time to grieve part of her letting go statements. I cried through this whole session. I’m sad and angry about the events that brought me to this space, and I was so relieved to feel connected to MT again. MT made a comment at this point that I really don’t need her anymore, because all I need you heal is inside me. Yes, it is. But I still need some guidance to find it, I need that 2 hours a week to find it, I need the space of her office to find it, and I need the witness from outside my daily life.
As I was getting ready to leave this session, MT asked what the papers I had with me were. I told her it was what I talked about written down in case I couldn’t say it. She asked if it was really that difficult, and I told her it really was. I had been totally scared about the whole thing. Then she asked me what I was thinking at that moment. I pointed to my collage of what a warrior is hanging on her filing cabinet, and said that I had been thinking that maybe I really am a warrior. MT said, you’re not just a warrior, you’re a Warrior Queen.