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Dr. Bob is Robert Hsiung, MD,
bob@dr-bob.orgShown: posts 1 to 2 of 2. This is the beginning of the thread.
Posted by caillou on October 6, 2005, at 15:22:10
This is another poem I wrote about my feelings for my T. This one is gentler so it is easier to reread and doesn't stir up so many emotions.
caillou
__________________________________I don't know how to get over you,
These aren’t feelings I'm accustomed to,
My emotions seemed to scare you away,
I really wish you would have stayed.Maybe it had nothing to do with love,
I just felt understood and cared for,
I needed you to keep me safe,
By keeping the boundaries in place.I wanted you to take away my pain,
To help me grow up, a little more each day,
To experience what life is all about,
To leave behind anger and self-doubt.Was that too much to ask of you?
I thought it was something you could do,
You seemed so confident and secure,
I didn't realize what might occur.I think we could have worked it out,
Without using blame, taunts, and petty insults,
I really wish we would have tried,
And used emotional honesty as our guide.Not every thing we wish for, comes true,
But I still half expect it to,
I am used to living in a dream,
Because I can't deal with what's real.Maybe someday soon I will get over you,
That's the best thing that I can do,
To move forward and greet life anew,
And have new things to look forward to.Sometimes I still miss your gentle voice,
And your reading glasses and your twinkling smile,
For now, I don't seem to have much choice,
My thoughts are still stuck on you.It isn't right, it isn’t fair,
To feel for you if you don't care,
I really want to get over you,
Just like you have seemed to do.Why is it taking me so long?
Am I doing something wrong?
Can you help me to feel better?
Should I write you another letter?That doesn’t make any sense,
I can't contact you ever again,
I still feel like something's amiss,
And that's what I must deal with.To be fair, I owe you some thanks,
I started thinking a bit differently,
And experiencing some epiphanies,
While I was sharing my journal with you.I wish it had ended on a pleasant note,
So I could look back on it with a smile,
I'd take back every unpleasant word I wrote,
And let the good feelings linger awhile.
Posted by Susan47 on October 8, 2005, at 14:58:28
In reply to untitled or missing you..., posted by caillou on October 6, 2005, at 15:22:10
> This is another poem I wrote about my feelings for my T. This one is gentler so it is easier to reread and doesn't stir up so many emotions.
>
> caillouWow, when I'm reading this it's so much like my feelings were I'm going to respond, really very personally and in my opinionated way, okay??? .. to some of what you're saying, ..
> __________________________________
>
> I don't know how to get over you,
> These aren’t feelings I'm accustomed to,
> My emotions seemed to scare you away,
> I really wish you would have stayed.
>
> Maybe it had nothing to do with love,
> I just felt understood and cared for,
> I needed you to keep me safe,
> By keeping the boundaries in place.
>That all seems to be true in my ex-t's ex-therapy with me as well.
> I wanted you to take away my pain,
> To help me grow up, a little more each day,
> To experience what life is all about,
> To leave behind anger and self-doubt.
>
Yes, left behind too late though, and too much "transference" going on, to salvage any therapeutic relationship?> Was that too much to ask of you?
> I thought it was something you could do,
> You seemed so confident and secure,
> I didn't realize what might occur.
>
I think he was confident and secure on the outside only. Now, looking back. At the end. At the beginning he had lots, probably from years of experience, good and bad. I'm curious about something, wondering if maybe it's more often than not, that things aren't what they seem to be.> I think we could have worked it out,
> Without using blame, taunts, and petty insults,
> I really wish we would have tried,
> And used emotional honesty as our guide.I flung a lot of abuse, but never got any in return, that I know of. Mostly, he was conscientious enough to keep his personal feelings about me and my character flaws, private. But things leak out of the cracks, and you get a general feeling of how bad it might really be, and that hurts and it's almost worse than having it be spoken by the person, because it feels dishonest and frightening, like you've been living some kind of lie about yourself, so yeah, emotional honesty, that's tough in talk therapy, 'cause it really shouldn't be about you and the therapist.
>
> Not every thing we wish for, comes true,
> But I still half expect it to,
> I am used to living in a dream,
> Because I can't deal with what's real.I gave that up as childish, and some drug-induced, but yeah, that happened too.
>
> Maybe someday soon I will get over you,
> That's the best thing that I can do,
> To move forward and greet life anew,
> And have new things to look forward to.Oh, yes. M-hm. But sad, very very sad to lose a dream.
>
> Sometimes I still miss your gentle voice,
> And your reading glasses and your twinkling smile,
> For now, I don't seem to have much choice,
> My thoughts are still stuck on you.Sick. This guy never had a twinkling smile. He only ever smiled at me once, in any way that really mattered. Because his guard was down. And it was sexy, and loving, caring, and inviting. And so did his body language, which was lovely. And once after that, when it was rehearsed, a rehearsed thing, a forethought ...
But mostly his actions weren't anything but cold and professional, and mostly, Go Away. His actions bespoke the coldest thing since Kitimat at, say, 2 am, during a February wind storm. Those are the thoughts I try not to be stuck on, they're the hardest to get rid of.
>
> It isn't right, it isn’t fair,
> To feel for you if you don't care,
> I really want to get over you,
> Just like you have seemed to do.
>
Ah, well. The hazards of his profession. Something you get good at. I think this type of therapy sucks. Try EMDR. Quick, effective, emotions always well in control. Brain therapy, not emotion pulling. Can you imagine what these people's emotional lives must be like, how self-controlled their home environments have to be, how stable their partners have to be, how protected their emotional selves must remain? Or they would be messes, or possibly there's a lot of people in the profession who're, and I hate to say this but nonetheless I suspect it so I'll say it.. narcissists. That's a type of person who wouldn't have much trouble separating emotion and empathy from relationships with people.
Number one, they don't have empathy. Number two, their emotion is shallow and self-based. But if you're not a narcissist you have to be self-protective, which causes behaviours and lifestyles built upon that. I can't imagine a psychotherapy practice held in a town of a population less than, I don't know, forty, fifty thou? Maybe more. Unless you get out of town a lot.> Why is it taking me so long?
> Am I doing something wrong?
> Can you help me to feel better?
> Should I write you another letter?Why not, if it helps you now. But be prepared for the letters coming back, the ones that say, Go Away. Don't take it too personally, because it'll bang on your self-esteem if you do. On the other hand, it can get you angry, feeling like you've been put into this position (AND YOU HAVE!!!) with nowhere reasonable to take your feelings to. So get angry, write the letter, get madder still when you're treated coldly, see the real person you "love", in an unattractive light, and re-think the whole thing.
>
> That doesn’t make any sense,
> I can't contact you ever again,
> I still feel like something's amiss,
> And that's what I must deal with.
>
Different therapy, new therapist.> To be fair, I owe you some thanks,
> I started thinking a bit differently,
> And experiencing some epiphanies,
> While I was sharing my journal with you.
>
> I wish it had ended on a pleasant note,
> So I could look back on it with a smile,
> I'd take back every unpleasant word I wrote,
> And let the good feelings linger awhile.
>
This is the end of the thread.
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