10/10/14
I don’t like the way that Sam guilts
me. I’m glad that he tells me to watch out—but he tells me or at
least warns me of something that might be an issue. I was a little
upset that a client didn’t schedule for today—he scheduled for
next week. It’s not a big deal for me but seriously, why bring this
up? He seems to vacillate between wanting me to feel worth $150 and
wanting me to take his leftovers and take almost anyone. I would be
absolutely pissed if I was seeing a therapist weekly for $50 and then
when I decided to go to every other week, I was charged $75 instead.
It’s like he just wants all the money—and it gets annoying
because it reminds me a lot of my dad. Oh, you have money—it’s
actually mine. Fuck you.
I’m pissed that I have no sanctuary
now. I was blissfully enjoying all the times I went out and wasn’t
hit on. I didn’t have to be on. I didn’t have to awkwardly accept
compliments. I feel different when I’m getting hit on. But it feels
so nice going any place and not being hit on. I loved going to
poetry, open mic, the bar, everywhere and I would know that I
wouldn’t get hit on. Now, it’s everywhere and anywhere. I don’t
feel comfortable. I just want to go out and not have to deal with it.
I want to be a business person—say “thanks for showing up”
(poetry) and not get hit on. But it’s no matter where or what. I
have been playing games on my phone and I started just talking to
some of the people I play against often. Some of the guys are upset
I’m taken. And you know, it’s getting to be taxing to talk to
people.
Also, whenever I get an email from one
of my clients—he has a crush on me—I just get upset. All I want
to do is tell him to never come back. He wants so much. It’s like,
“I’m your therapist. I don’t need to only take care of your
fucking fragile emotional self.” His emails are like, “Can I send
you stuff over the weekend?.... could you answer me and comment on
them?” and all I hear is “I need a connection to you. I don’t
know what to do. Please validate my measly existence. I need you.”
This makes me want to run. I don’t respond well to that. And he
just writes these really inappropriate things. I’m ready to be
done. And now, I’m disconnecting—telling my energies to wear thin
with people so I don’t have to continue these connections that I
hate.
I’ve been teaching a class on keeping
a visual journal. The gallery where I do it has a crazy manager. And
for all that she’s like—I’m a Buddhist, I’m so great, I’m a
healer—I sure don’t feel great, don’t feel uplifted after
talking to her. She’s a little fucking energy vampire. She’s also
smug. I can’t take it. But now I’m finding out that she’s upset
that the gallery hasn’t been going as great as she thought it
might. She’s also been very distant from the gallery like not show
up when there are classes, etc. She’s been dating a guy for about 4
months and she’s been going over to his place often. So, she hasn’t
been invested. She reminds me of my step-mom—only going to where
the money is and right now, there’s no money in this gallery, the
way that she wanted.
I had flashbacks last Friday. It was
awful. There wasn’t much that I could do to stop it. I did some
visualizations to keep myself feeling safe. It’s been great. On
Monday, I did some journal writing and it was so great, healing, and
productive. It was everything I had been thinking about.
I got in contact with Evan. I talked to
him about the things that happened when I was 12 and 13. I thought he
would remember the troublesome time I had at the time, how his friend
bullied me, how obsessed I was with him and how I was really messed
up. But he had forgotten it all. He remembered feeling great around
me and that my brother and my brother’s friends bullied him so he
didn’t feel comfortable dating me. He completely forgot about all
the other stuff—but he felt very sorry for all it. And you know,
that helped to heal me in the places that I needed it.
I also found out that when Kirk and
Evan were friends, Kirk stole from Evan and his family a couple of
times. I feel vindicated that I made Casey upset by kicking Kirk out
of the house. I’m glad that at least at that point, someone
listened to me. The other times when Kirk came over, I made sure to
be around him and that he was in eye sight. I did not want anything
to happen again and be blamed, again. I would shake around him—not
a cold shake. I don’t know how to describe it. It was just a shake
that wouldn’t go away. It was an internal shake. It was scary to
do.
I’m sad that I will never get a
chance to talk to my family about this. They’re not capable. I can
only imagine what other falling out would happen. We’re good about
not talking about it.
I feel so sorry for Catholics. The
guilt is just everywhere. I think of this when I was growing up. Even
though my dad had not been Catholic for years, he was trying to
overcome the issues that growing up Catholic came with. He wanted to
be sex and body positive but didn’t know how to do it. Both of my
parents sorta tried it. They wanted different messages from when they
were kids—but they were in between so, there were mixed messages.
My mom wanted me to have guilt or shame to motivate me to do
something or not do something. She often tried to get me motivated by
mentioning boys. I got upset at her one time and threw my blankets on
the floor—she got upset and asked me if I would do that on a date.
It’s not that she encouraged a different way to express my
anger—just not throw the blankets on the floor, which, of all the
things everyone else did, was not a bad thing at all. It didn’t
hurt anyone and it wasn’t terrible. I wish I could have thrown them
around some more, get the angry energy out and feel fine with talking
about it when I wasn’t angry.
There were times when I would get so
upset when I was working at the group home because the girls would
not feel guilt about their behaviors. It was tough to watch. I know
that guilt shouldn’t be a motivator but sometimes it is—for
better behavior. I just wanted to yell and scream sometimes, “Do
you have any shame in your actions? Stop talking about pulling trains
and how you love anal sex—it’s inappropriate.”
I discouraged JZ from talking to his
parents about our plan to live together next year. He had already
told them. They’re fine. OMG, what is wrong? I thought I’d have
to hide this because they seem so Catholic about sex. And now,
nothing. It’s so weird. My mom is excited. My dad thinks that JZ is
my ex Jeremy, even though I strangely went silent about Jeremy for
last few years. I don’t want to correct him because it’s not
worth it. I just correct any assumptions—no, we didn’t celebrate
Passover, it was Easter; no, he’s Italian, not Jewish. Luckily, we
don’t talk much so it’s not a big deal.
I almost think my dad enjoys when I
roll my eyes at his humor. It’s the way we’ve been for a long
time.
I liked that Kaze told me to let him
know when I was dissociating during sex. I didn’t use it because I
was afraid that I’d hurt his feelings. It happened so often. I wish
we came together and discussed how we could make me feel more
comfortable with sex. I’m glad that he did let me play with his
dick without it leading to sex. I needed that to feel safe.
I’m still stuck on Lorain and how she
makes me feel drained instead of encouraged, uplifted. I barely
wanted to let her touch me. And you know, it’s weird; I would just
want to sleep after the “long” day I had but at poetry, I would
be awake. There are other places I’d go even after a long day and
I’d be awake. And that’s a sign of a good place—a place where I
feel great, re-energized. It’s always about her- about the band,
her struggles, etc. It just seems like she unloads. I don’t want it
anymore. I don’t get this way around any clients, except her friend. I just can’t continue this. I don’t want to be entangled
with her or her friend anymore.
