Tonight, T accidentally double-booked me. I was there 20 minutes when another client pushed the button (it lights up in the room) and he realized what he had done. I volunteered to go (we saw each other last night and have another session tomorrow and I only took this one, because he had it available and I could use the extra support with H out of town). He asked over and over if I was sure and obviously felt awful and worried, but I kept insisting. He offered for me to come back in an hour (which I did). I wasn't upset. I wasn't worried that he was glad to see these other clients instead of me. I just took the situation at face value, did some shopping and came back. He ran late when I got back and I did project a little here that he would rather I hadn't come back, but got over it quickly. We talked, all "big people" stuff for an hour and I left. I could drive right away. I went home. I had a little trouble with inside upset at the little parts not getting to connect, but being as I only have to make it through one night, not too much.
Partially, it is that getting through one day is simple. Usually I have to go two or three or four, sometimes five or six. Anything more than three is very difficult right now (trying not to go into self-bashing mode about that). Partially, it is that I somehow went into a highly dissociated mode...not like everything was fuzzy, but more like completely disconnected with other feelings. The usual tenseness, inability to talk, inability look at him...just gone. We chatted easily about band practice, Boo, H, my family. All now stuff, all easy to keep the kids out of. But, after a rather intense ending to our session last night, part of it is definitely just that the most anxious one seems to trust him now in a way she didn't before.
And my response to all these things, the "real" relationship that is there, the trust that he earned by being real...I felt sick and just done. Isn't trusting supposed to feel good? It isn't the terror that I usually get floating up when we approach the connection with T. It's almost like the reaction someone might have to some sort of slimy creature or gross-looking (but not really scary) bug. It's not a reaction I was having to T or the relationship with T, but a reaction I was having to connecting with feelings of trust within myself. Has anyone had something like this? Like, "Ugh, yuck, I trust him!" It's a very confusing reaction to have. I know it's not a full trust. I know the panic will come and go, especially when I'm more in touch with other parts. I had an awful dream last night that H left me, cut off all contact. I think that's how the shut down about abandonment fears happened, because I got so badly triggered that I had to dissociate rather heavily. Still, yuck, I trust T!
I don't know if his loose boundaries are scaring be and that is what the yuck is about. Yuck I trust him and yuck it is a real relationship, despite existing only within a certain sphere. I don't think that's it, though. I feel safe that even though he might sometimes make a wrong call, that his intention is always to do right by me. I think that I am, by nature of my caretaking, far more concerned about defending the boundaries I have imagined for him than he is...or more like I imagined such a SMALL box for the relationship to protect myself from rejection and it turns out we're moving around in a three-bedroom house, not a studio apartment like I thought.
As I was leaving tonight, we were discussing how inside kids getting triggered effects me, but also him (I was commenting via text), but he doesn't have them in his brain all the time. He corrected me that he does have them in his brain (or rather, he thinks about them a lot), though admittedly, it is not as complex and intense as my own experience. And I can tell it's true, because he has recently stopped himself before making comments, knowing exactly how they will be interpreted by the kids, and when I pursue what he was thinking, qualifies his statements in a way that avoids or addresses the projections that would have otherwise happened. He knows them/me. Realizing this, my only thought was, "Oh no, what have I done!" All the things that I would want...
-to know the relationship is real, experience T as a real person, so I can experience his care as real care (i.e. not him being good at a job).
-to have encouragement, reassurance and comfort when in pain, whether it is by words or touch or just T's presence.
-to be known and accepted, thought about positively, his connection to me retained by him outside of our scheduled time (so I can feel less guilty about wanting to retain the connection as well).
-to be able to, for once, just trust someone.
I am getting these things. But, I am miserable about getting them, in a way. I know it comes down to my sense that I am unworthy of them, not supposed to have them. But, I was hoping, if I let it happen, I'd be able to feel good about having my needs met in a safe place, by a safe person. But, I don't feel good. I feel shallow somehow, like the goodness of it has drained out of me and I don't know where it went. Last night, I connected to so much pain, but also so much comfort in not being alone in it, really feeling like I belonged with my T in the pain. Tonight, I feel like belonging is a mistake.
I get it, intellectually. I probably just needed a break and had an adult session disconnected from all the inside turmoil. I'm sure tomorrow will be back to the usual distress and maybe then the appreciation for the connection with T will resume. Right now, I rather know I appreciate it than feel it. He is just someone who is there, someone I can trust, someone I like, someone who likes me. He doesn't feel like my T in the way that my T is like saying my Dad or even my cat. He doesn't really feel like a friend. I don't know what he feels like. I guess, it feels almost like the relationship itself is an entity and whereas I'm used to him feeling like a vital organ of that relationship, it feels more like the essentialness of our contributions to keeping it going are more evenly divided than they used to be, as if I have taken on some more advanced role in facilitating its growth than I've had before. Like, maybe he is still the heart, pumping the blood throughout the body, but I am the lungs oxygenating the blood.
I probably shouldn't write this late at night, as I am rambling and making no sense. I am using metaphors, because I don't really know how to describe what is happening. I think, objectively, it is a good thing. But, it feels confusing and repulsive, because it is so new and different that it's like seeing some sort of alien creature for the first time. Can anyone relate or make sense of this or am I just operating on too little sleep for too many days now?