Thursday Therapy: And How Do You Feel About That?

Well, well, well. . .

Good session with Freud this week. We started delving into places where angels I fear to tread. We started talking about things that have been forefront in my mind throughout my viral snot-infested Mucinex-resistant sinus and bronchial infection.

Being sick gives one lots of time to think between lying in bed limp as a ragdoll and coughing in spasms that wrack the body and cause embarrassing lack of bladder control. Thinking is good. . . sometimes. Thinking is bad. . . sometimes. And sometimes thinking leads you down paths that you just flat out don’t want to go.

But before we head off in that direction (notice subtle technique for delaying tackling the subject matter at hand) I do want to relate some mighty interesting dreams of late. For a period of about two to three weeks and then ending about a week and a half ago I had a recurring dream. My psyche was dealing with the last vestiges of my recent past. The dream always went the same way. I was happily working on something at home when lo and behold BJ shows up unexpectedly. He goes on and on about how he’d made such a mistake to let me go and how he missed me badly and wanted me back. I would turn, look up, and practically laugh in his face as I tell him sorry, too little, too late. I’ve already moved on. The first time I dreamed it I was almost giddy the next day because it seemed such a victory. By the last time I dreamed it I was so finished with both him and the dream I just wanted it over. And it is.

Okay, back to the subject at hand. What I’ve been thinking about a lot and discussed at length with Freud, and will continue to discuss with him at my next session, is the thing that is behind my inability to be without a man, some man, any man, multiple men, in my life at any given time. To be without a man, to me, is the most fearsome thing ever. While it is easy enough to think, and to say, “so go be single for a while, prove to yourself you can do it on your own” it ain’t so easy to do. At least it isn’t for me. I can’t even approach thinking about that without knowing that there is a man, or a few men, or a bunch of men, who are there for me. And once I have a hold on one, or a few, or a bunch, I don’t let go. I don’t let go unless I am absolutely forced to do so.

Part of it, not all of it but a good part of it, is that I want someone to take care of me, to be there for me when I need it the most. I feel like I have no safety net. I feel like I have to just keep plugging along, without rest, without assistance, without anyone to fall back on if and when I need a break. Do other people feel like they have a support system? Is it wrong of me to want one? Am I unrealistic in thinking that I should be able to have the peace of mind that there is a safety net somewhere that will catch me if I fall off the rope on which my life teeters? Am I just naturally weaker than other people? Do other people do just fine and dandy on their own without a net? These are the questions I ask myself, that roll around my empty head while I try to recuperate from the plague of 2010. These are the questions Freud is helping me to start to address. Also, we are digging into why I feel the way I do and what I might do to work myself into a better place.