The Thursday Morning C Show
I am going to leave my entry on all my therapists hitherto, as it will require a considerable amount of thought and recollection on my part that, as of this moment, I do not feel in a mental position to think about. Given my perpetual insomnia, I am exhausted, and after getting back from the madness of MMcF’s house, I need time to recover (actually it wasn’t as bad as feared, but that’s another matter).
I do however want to add a few words about C, as Wednesdays are the eves of my meetings with him. I always feel slightly pensive and apprehensive ahead of my sessions with him.
It’s not that I don’t like him. I actually like and respect him considerably, and as I think I have already stated feel somewhat psychologically reliant upon him. Nevertheless, I have found therapy with him very difficult.
It has been a journey of self-discovery for me. Please forgive the use of that hateful cliché, but in this case I feel it offers the best description. This self-discovery has not been of a positive nature. I mentioned in my self description that I am arrogant. The truth, or at least what I believed to be the truth, is that I’m an academic snob and feel (felt) that I am superior to many people (though I would stress that I don’t think I am superior to everyone). Therapy with C has proven to me that these beliefs are mistaken. It was not C who suggested this necessarily – in fact, it was another clinical psychologist named Ian. However, talking to C has really proven to me that this is an elaborate defence mechanism; the reality is, I utterly abhor myself. I genuinely didn’t consciously realise this until recently – well, I did in some ways of course, but I did not realise the sheer bloody depth of my self-hate. But my sessions with C have proven that this is my real, deep down belief about myself, and the arrogance is little more than a front.
This is at least partly predicated upon the fact that some of the things I do, some of the things I think, some of the behaviour I exhibit is insidious, malevolent, twisted, downright fucking nasty. And this to people I love. I was aware of these issues myself, of course, but for some reason, having verbally enunciated them to C makes me realise the viciousness of them. I suppose I did not really think about that before; the knowledge of my nastiness was there in principle I suppose, but its severity wasn’t really brought home to me until I discussed it all with him.
Another fact that I hate about therapy is the lack of self-control I exhibit when in C’s care. I haven’t entirely lost my temper in front of him, but it is clearly evident to the poor man that a lot of anger bubbles underneath the surface. Moreover, though, I find myself in tears in front of him quite often. I am not sure if I have referenced this already or not, but I detest displays of emotion of this nature. I don’t like it when other people do it, but when I cry in front of someone, self-disgust completely consumes me. I don’t know why. Poor C has urged me not to hold back on this, and keeps telling me when I apologise for crying that I have nothing to apologise for. But it’s still so unnatural and alien to me and I hate it.
Last week was the end of our initial contracted sessions, and the week beforehand C has made reference to the fact that he is a finite resource. I worked myself into a frenzied panic prior to last week’s session that he was going to abandon me. He detected as soon as I opened my mouth that I was anxious, prompting me to break down and beg him not to abandon me. This is so completely out of character and I am slightly ashamed of myself. (For the record, C and I agreed another 10 sessions taking us to some time in July, after which point the situation will be reviewed).
I also wasn’t quite so aware of my fear of abandonment before I met C. The foregoing paragraph details the most clear demonstration of this I have observed, but I now recognise it in other areas of my life as well. Thanks, V.
You will have realised from other references on this blog (most notably, I presume, the final character listing here) that I’ve seen a number of therapists before C. Why have I not experienced any of this with them? Well, C is the first one I have really opened up to. I have so many defences built up and hate discussing my ’emotions’ and ‘feelings’ – as you can tell, I even hate the sodding words. So I held back on pretty much every other therapist I ever saw, which I know I should not have done, but I just couldn’t do it. I do not know exactly why C puts me at my ease (well, at ease of sorts). Maybe the situation has just become so utterly desperate that I finally had to confess all. But I don’t think so. It is something to do with him, but it is a nebulous something that I can’t quite pinpoint or define.
Therapy is so hard for me, and if anything as of these last few weeks, in light of the aforementioned realisations, I have probably felt more depressed and frantic and panicky and thoughtful of self-harm than I have done in absolutely ages – probably years. But I did expect that things would probably need to get worse before they got better, and these issues, hideous as they are to me, need to be explored.
In short, C brings out the worst in me. But he needs to do so. The fact that he has succeeded so far surely exemplifies his compassion towards and understanding of his clients, his skill as a psychotherapist.
This entry was posted on Wednesday, 6 May, 2009 at 5:07 pm and is filed under C, Context, Psychotherapy with tags anxiety, clinical depression, depression, insomnia, major depressive disorder, mental health, mentalhealth, psychiatry, psychology, Psychotherapy, social anxiety, therapy. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.