Bryan's Poem.

OK, we are high, that is a consideration.  We just fucking cyber stalked our therapist, but we didn't mean to.  We were trying to find his email to email him this stuff, and then well, internet addiction type of click, click, click, oh, he's been quoted on ABC!  Fuck. He's a good guy. I think. I don't want to get a crush on him. But I have a therapist crush on him, because fuck, how else does this shit work. Fuck I wish I had more time with him.  Maybe he'll take me on as a private client when the summers over.  But, wow, he's a keeper.  He knows what he's doing and he cares and he is intuitive and honest.

And I am soooooooooooo afraid of falling in love or whatever that state is with him, because when you are that open and honest with someone it's like its a sticky tentacle grasp that just happens.  You just fall for them.  And I know that it is not the right course and that it is not useful and that it is part of the therapy and all of that, and IT STILL FUCKING HAPPENS. aaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrggggggggghhhhhh.  And I think if I had more time with him, I could work on it.   But we don't.  Because I know he could handle me having a love feeling for him.

when you are that open and honest with someone it's a sticky tentacle grasp that just happens.  you just fall for them.  but it is OK.  this is part of the healing.  having him take my red wet bleeding heart and hold it and hold it and hold it and hold it.  and hold.  and hold.  so i can look at it, i can see it is OK, it is not gangrenous, it is not communicable, it is not green with pus, it is not going to infect anyone.  it is not going to infect him.  it is not going to infect me.  it is going to heal me.  and it is strong, but it will not kill me.  it will not kill him.  he will not blow up.  he can take my strong wet heart and hold it so i can look at it.  so i can study it.  so i can learn to love it.  and he is strong so he holds it.  and it drips blood down his hands.  but he has studied, he has friends, he has a therapist, he has a supervisor, he knows the boundary.  he knows it is not his blood.  he knows he can wash it off.  he knows he is helping to heal, not having a love affair, so he holds my heart.  and i look at it.  i study it.  and i see its strength.  and i am so scared of it. soo sooo sooooo scared of it.  ......................................................

.......................... so i keep trying to give it to him.  to put in his chest.  but he explains that he won't take it because he can't take it.  it is not his to take.  it is mine.  it is in his hands right now but it is mine to take back.

so i think.  and i watch the bleed on his skin.  and i watch him.  i watch him, i watch him.  i watch him.  i wait for his grimace.  his disgust.  the briefest flutter of an eyelid, the smallest unconscious curl of a lip.  and it doesn't come.  he is calm.  he has studied, he has friends, he has a supervisor, he knows the boundary, he has the strength.  he holds my bleeding heart.  it drips my blood down his hands.  he is calm.  he is kind.  he even smiles once, with my blood pooling on the floor, he still sees the point of living.  he shows me i can feel.  because he is feeling.  so i watch him.  i watch him.  i watch him.

and one day, i take my heart in my hands.  i watch him.  how do i do this?  i watched him, so i know.  i am calm.  i let it bleed on my hands.  i feel.  i let the blood pool on the floor.  the pain will not kill me.  it did not kill me the first time,  i lived then.  i made it then.  i can make it now.  oh, the pain.  pain.  pain.  but i am calm.  i feel it.  i cry.  i cry.  i cry.  i cry.  i cry.  then i am quiet.  then i laugh.  then i smile at him.  he smiles at me.  i made it.  i still want to give my heart to him but i keep it.  it is mine to keep. 

And I take it in.  I take me in.  I take my strong red wet beating heart back and put it in my chest.  And I smile.  I say "We made it."  He says, "I think we did."  And I shake his bloody hand with my bloody hand.  And we stand and we look at each other and we smile with our hearts in our chest. 

There is something wrong with me

Yes, I think there is something really wrong with me.  I watch this extreme porn that is degrading and humiliating to women.  It's the only kind I like.  I want to see the women hurt, extremely.  That is not good.  I don't think it's good.

I would like to be touched.  Hugged, cuddled, loved.  I would even love to have sex.  But I can't.  For a few reasons.  The main one right now is that I am terrified of men.  Strike that.  I am terrified of people.   And you sort of have to hang out with people before they will touch you.  People scare the shit out of me.

Except of course for my infatuation flavor of whatever day it is.  I mean, it's still sort of F, but since I no longer see him or live in his town, then I'm not gonna be doing much with him, am I?  Even if it's mooning over him.

I saw this amazing video that deconstructs what is going on with the characters Laura and Paul from "In Treatment".  I've seen this video before on youtube, but was watching it mainly because I love that storyline.  Come on, it's about a chick who is in love with her shrink.  What else am I going to be interested in, right? 

Here're the links, there are actually two awesome ones:    In Treatment: Laura testing Paul  and   In Treatment: Understanding Laura

Anyway, this therapist takes apart what Laura is doing, and it is exactly the same shit I pull all the time.  But it doesn't say she is bad or gross or that it's "her fault".  In fact, it sort of lambasts Paul and his crappy therapy.  Paul doesn't handle her testing well at all.  And he lets her down.

One thing this therapist states is that Laura was most probably sexually abused, probably by her father.  That doesn't turn out to be true later in the show, but we do learn she had an affair when she was 16 with a much older man.  I guess I should not call it an affair.  I guess I should say she was taken advantage of.  I should say she was abused.  Anyway, I sort of did that.  Or at least I tried. 

See the difference between Laura and me is that I never follow through with my guys.  Or they never follow through with me.  I needed someone to take a little more overt action because I was scared to death and didn't know what to do.  But if I had known what to do, I would have done it.  I was waiting for them to touch me first, and they never did.

I guess I am writing about Uncle Kevin.  And yes, he's my uncle by marriage to my mom's sister.  Not actually blood related to me.  But I had a huge crush on him when I was a teenager that blossomed into an even huger crush when I visited them when I was 20, just turning 21.

All this stuff with F, it falls right in line with what went on with Kevin.  It's the same damn pattern over and over, and it never gets satisfied.  I never actually have an affair with these men, I just pine and pine and pine and hurt over them and never do anything.  And feel guilty for even liking them in the first place because they are so inappropriate for me. 

Chin on his chest: my psychiatrist's reaction to my confession of attraction.

I talked to my friend a long time today about what happened with F on Weds.  I even remembered and told her more than I told my therapist, mostly because I've had time to process it and let it soak into my brain a little longer.

I am now watching "In Treatment" like it was CRACK.  Laura and Paul, ooooh yeah.  I sound like the Kool-Aid guy.  Anyway, the first two episodes when Laura reveals to Paul that she loves him; hell yes.  Then his (and her) subsequent reactions in later episodes are manna from heaven.  It is exactly how I feel about F.  Or did feel about F.  I think I'm getting over him, especially because of how he reacted when I told him I "liked him."  Cripes, how juvenile a term is that?  I guess I was too embarrassed to say "attracted."  I will not be next time.

Yes, F.  I want to sleep with you.  Perhaps after I get to know you better.  But, if it were the only option, I would fuck you right now.

I DID IT!!

So I saw him today.  We went for our 30 minutes.  He gave me a diagnosis of PTSD with Borderline traits.  Not Borderline.  Yay! Then I asked if I could talk to him for another 10 minutes. But, on to what happened next.

OK, actually first let's go over what happened during the first part.  I walked in, he did his frown again, and I asked him what that was.  He sort of wiffle-waffled, so I said "You did it last time too."  He said it was due to the fact that he was trying to remember what went on in last session.  I said "So, it doesn't mean you're trying to tell me something without telling me something?"  "No" he said. (He also said  later that doctors were human too, which I think he was relating to the whole frowning thing.)

So we got on with it.  He asked me a ton about my drug use.  I told him everything.  LSD, my one time with Crystal Meth, GHB, K (done with that chick with needles), Ecstasy, the little coke I did; fuck what else?  Hash, pot, DXM (of course), whippets, Xanax, alcohol (obviously), no heroin though.  I'm sure I'm forgetting some, but this is getting tedious.

Good gosh, I hope my family never reads this and figures out it's me.  Right now I'm the good kid who is not an addict and has her shit together.  Ha.

So next, he asked me a bit about my father.  When he died, how often I saw him. I told him about him hitting me when I was 13, and Uncle Sam's fuckery.  Then going to Uncle Sam's house the next night for dinner.  He asked about mom's shit and I told him about the walking home.  F asked about verbal abuse. I told him mom told me I was unlikable and mean.  Not stupid.  But fat, in a veiled way.  And gross.  And mean and unlovable.

F then told me he was abandoned, ignored, and not taken care of.  He said this on his own, I didn't ask.  But I love hearing it.  I mean I didn't love hearing that he was hurt.  But, I just want to relate to him.  I just wanted to take care of him. Pathological, I know.  But he is so attractive and fragile.  Fuuuck I like him.  Or at least what he has let me know about himself in session.

He tells me he thinks I have PTSD, not borderline.  Yay, again.  I don't know how to fix it though.  And he's just my meds check guy.  He basically told me that later.  Yeah, so later.

We get done about 10:45. Someone calls him on the phone to check to see if he's heading out to a meeting at 11 am.  He tells them to go on without him.  He then talks about how there's a merger going on and they are having many tedious meetings about it.  He doesn't want to go.  I think I volunteer that he can say I'm in crisis and not go.  He may have brought it up, I'm not sure.  But I say, if you have 10 minutes, I have something I'd like to talk about.  He assents.

So I say, "I don't think I can see you anymore because I like you".  He gets an "oh, I don't know what to do" look on his face. And he doesn't know what to do because he says NOTHING.  I blunder on saying I looked it up online and know it's transference, but online they say you should tell your doctor.

More later.

OK, I'm gonna do it. Talk about it, I mean. Not "do it."

OK, so I see him tomorrow for my second session this week.  And I've decided I'm going to do it.  I'm going to tell him about how I feel.  I don't know why, it probably isn't necessary, but I'm doing it anyway.  I don't care.

Or I have too many reasons, and don't know which is the most motivating:

• This lust is driving me crazy.
• When I left last time I wanted to go and drink, I was sooooooo keyed up.
• Maybe he'll sleep with me :)
• Maybe he'll drop me so he can date me and sleep with me later.
• It'll be fun to talk about- It'll be the closest I'll ever come to doing it with him.
• Yeah, that's def part of it, it'll be tantalizing and sexual to talk about
• I can wear a skirt tomorrow and not look weird because of my cast.  Which gives easy access to showing him my cuts.  Which are on my very upper thigh.  Which then will give him a glimpse of my super hot new underwear I bought for the occasion.  This would be extremely trashy and gross to do, so I will not do it (probably).  But damn, it's good masturbatory fodder.

I wonder if he would get hot knowing I get hot about him.  Man do I get hot for him.  I hate it.  I'm sick of it.

I just want to date someone hot and have sex with them.  Now.

But unfortunately Dr. F is hot.  And smart.  And a smart-ass.  And educated.  And accomplished.  And arrogant.  And fucked up.  All the things that are attractive to me.  He even has diametrically opposed political views to me, which also gets me hot. UGH.  I hate this, I really do.

I think I've finally gotten the courage to do this because I have a therapist.  So I have her to go to tomorrow to talk about it.  So if F freaks and drops me or is mean to me or whatever, I have her to go to and lick my wounds.

OK, need to try to go back to sleep.  Gotta look rested and beautiful for tomorrow :)

PS  Have begun talking to hot chick on OKCupid.  Maybe I can get it on with her.  There are no hot guys on OKCupid.  They are all arrogant and gross.

Yeah, I'm still infatuated, what else did you expect?

I am still infatuated, but the tenor and flavor of the infatuation is changing.  I don't really think it had gotten into my emotional (vs intellectual) core that if he fucked me he would be basically violating all of his professional ethics.  This of course would ruin his career, as he already has the drug issue on record.  Also, it would make him vastly less attractive, because who can be hot for a guy that has no ethics?  So, no sleeping with my shrink.

But perhaps more important to my mental health is realizing that I think I've been making this whole thing up.  If he were interested in me, he would be not blowing me off on Facebook.

So, he's having fun in session, talking about himself, perhaps to make himself feel cool, hip and young.  But damn I like him when he's trying to be cool, hip and young.  But I've got a suspicion that it has nothing to do with me.  Other than I'm a chump and let him talk.

I'm embarrassed that I have to process this so much, but I do.  So I will continue.  I am listening to "Across the Sea" by Weezer.  How appropriate.  "I could never touch you, I think it would be wrong."  The next best song would be Police's "Don't Stand so Close to Me."  Maybe I'll make a playlist of all the songs of fucked up forbidden lust.

I don't know what it is with F.  I truly don't think its transference, if only that we haven't had many in-depth conversations for me to attach to him.  But maybe it's projection.  Here's what I do know:

• He has told me intimate details about his rehab.  That he has to do a urine test every week.  That he was abused by his mother when he was young.  That he grew up Pentecostal and doesn't like it now.  That he has social phobia and took Ambien to help it.  That he uses drugs to get out of his own brain.
• Shoot, is that all?
• I want to keep asking him questions about himself, because it makes me love him more, and I feel that we are connecting that way.
• He is not returning any of my valid scheduling/business calls.
• He did not give me a diagnosis at the end of the last session.  I need to get it this time!
• I love the way he sits and walks.  Not really anything to do with me, but it turns me on.  He sort of struts, and sits with a strut.  Don't ask me how, but he does.
  
• I want him to date me.  I want him to drop me as a client and date me.
• I started cutting myself after this shit started. Well, I also started fucking a boyfriend and drinking heavily around this time as well.  So perhaps we should not blame this on F.  Having sex is probably the causative factor.  I haven't fucked the same person regularly for years, it's always been just random shit with random girls/guys.  But always safe.  I'm sure of that.  Tested and clean baby.
  
• I compliment him on things and he seems shocked but pleased.
• I am ugly and he would never want me in or out of the office.  If I met him at a club, he would look right over my head and into a real woman's eyes.
• I am not real.
• I want him to hug me and tell me everything is all right