“Believe me, Bourbon, I am totally up for taking care of any need you may have to throw up the poison inside when you are here with me. I am quite prepared to be with that and clear up the mess.” – Email from Wolf
I was looking forward to todays session in the hope that I could make progress with this need to let things spill out with Wolf and test whether he could deal with it as he is trying to get me to believe that he can. But before I even got in the room I had to adopt a protective stance (from the emetophobia: the witch) and that self-protection unfortunately stretched to Wolf himself.
The Witch (inside): “Your stomach is churning, can you feel that?”
Bourbon: “Yes I can feel that, but you can’t trick me into believing I have a stomach bug again, not just as I pull up to therapy again, that is too much of a coincidence. I know this is you causing anxiety and I am not fooling for it”.
It was a battle, but this round, I won. Despite The Witch trying to urge me to go back home and throwing me images of vomit and threatening that “this is what will happen if you go into that therapy room“… I used logic to counteract her weakened arguments.
The Witch: 1
Bourbon: 1
Early on in the session today Wolf threw a curve ball that dramatically changed the course of the session. He slipped it into conversation that he is taking next week off so is unable to see me (though we will have phone conversations). Me, already thoroughly irritated by the morning I had (rich with rejections already), felt it as another rejection big-time. I was able to keep “control” of and keep a distance away from the irritation; but Wolf really wanted me to own it, express it, show it to him.
So, subconsciously, I threw a few curve balls of my own. I didn’t realise it was what I was doing at the time, but looking back, it is obvious.
Bourbon: “Maybe this is what it is like to be okay – maybe that is why I am so numb – maybe I don’t even need to be in therapy anymore. Maybe this is what contentment feels like? Maybe I am fine?”
He tried to stifle it but he couldn’t. I looked up at him just in time as his smile burst into a gentle laughter.
Wolf: “That is the biggest load of rubbish you have ever said – you don’t really believe that do you?”
Bourbon: “Well, how am I meant to know what being okay is, when I don’t think I’ve ever really felt it? Perhaps I’m not really depressed, perhaps I just need to get on with life like everybody else. Perhaps I’m only here in therapy because I am used to it”
Wolf: “If you were okay you’d be out there engaging with the universe wouldn’t you?”
Bourbon: “I don’t want to engage with the universe. I’d quite happily be dead”
Wolf: “Then you need help. You need to be in therapy. You are quite clearly not okay. The way you are feeling now is not okay. You’re here in this room today, on and off, and you seem to be unaware that just a minute go your whole body started to shake”.
Bourbon: “Argh. I just want to argue with you”
Wolf: “I know. And we are arguing. Just a playful sort of arguing – which is far safer. But we are building up to the real thing. Soon you will be able to tell me what you really think without joking about it to cover up the way you feel about it.”
Eventually he unknowingly found a way to get me to feel my own emotions and not keep them at arm’s length. He had positioned a cushion on the floor between us where we were sat. He said that it represents “everything”, as I had spent the last 15 minutes saying, very calmly, that everything is too much at the moment and I don’t want to be here anymore.
Wolf: “Well, where do you want to be?”
Bourbon: “In the ground”
We discussed life & death (as we very very often seem to!) and the full weight of the cushions presence suddenly hit me. I am a visual person. Therapeutic props and the body language of the therapist (and probably my own body language too if I stopped to think about it) makes a big difference.
Bourbon: “It’s so big and ugly isn’t it. Look at it all there. It’s overwhelming. I can’t deal with all that”
Wolf: “Ok, so let’s focus on one part of it. One part of the ‘everything’. What part do you want to focus on?”
It surprised me. “You” came flying out my mouth.
It surprised me even more when he said “I thought you were going to say that“.
Wolf gets up and moves to my side of the cushion.
Wolf: “I’m going to join you in your irritation to do with me…”
He starts a monologue on how irritating therapists are, how they are never there when you need them to be, how they let you down all the time, how they don’t see the half of what the client is going through, they’re only there for a miniscule piece of their week.
I guess it was cathartic in a way; even though it wasn’t coming from my mouth.
Wolf: “You are scratching the cushion. Who are you scratching?”
Bourbon: “You”
Wolf: “Ok, that’s okay. You can keep doing that. You’re irritated at me and that’s okay, you have a right to be”.
Eventually I picked up where his monologue left off.
Bourbon: “Thursday is so far away, and then you’re going away for a whole week, you don’t get how hard it is for me, you’re right, you don’t see half of what I struggle with. I wish I could see you everyday. Coming here is the only break I get”
Wolf: “Yes, thursday is really far away from where you are. I think it’s about the quality of the break, not the quantity. If you saw me everyday we would still struggle with what you are currently trying to overcome: fear of letting go and taking this break. If we can get you to really truly let go and have a good quality break, it will be easier for you in between sessions”.
His presence only a metre away from my body (usually he sits about 3 metres away) really triggered me to open the flood gates and let some truth come out. I disclosed with him that actually, this is another ‘tool’ that can be used to our advantage: if he thinks there is too much of a distance between us, emotionally, it probably means there is too much of a distance between us, physically. Initially it shocks me when he just gets up and moves closer. I am not great with people spontaneously getting up and moving around if I don’t know what they are doing – just a side-effect of the unpredictability of my mother’s behaviour I guess. I am undecided whether to tell him this so that he has to ask before he randomly gets up and moves closer to me – or just let it be the shock that it is, knowing that healthy release will come through triggered by the shock.
Bourbon: “I wish I had a knife. I’d pierce this cushion right there (pointing) and rip it open all the way up here. *pause*. I’m a bit violent really aren’t I? I guess it’s not surprising as I was brought up with knifes as weapons”
Wolf: “Yes you are. But wouldn’t it better anyway to rip bits out with your hands? That way you can really feel what you are doing and get in there. With a knife you’re keeping a distance.”
Bourbon: “Okay, so here, I’m going to rip this bit of the cushion out, which is a bit of you, more precisely your need to go away next week so then you won’t go away and everything will be fine. Well it won’t be fine, ever, really.”
Wolf: “Everything will be fine. We will talk on the phone on Monday and Thursday which is the same day as we normally see each other. We will get through this. It isn’t okay to end the session here is it?”
Bourbon: “No, it isn’t”.
Wolf: “Okay, well it doesn’t have to be okay” he says as he gets up.
