Freedom

This week began with two sessions in the shrinks office. Determined, I sought to get at the feelings Paul wanted me to experience.

How does it feel to see oneself as defective? What is it like to be shut down by yourself, to be told you cannot be yourself? How is it to tell oneself that you cannot be real?

I only pulled a blank to his questions. I was confused. My mind blank, my ability to verbally respond was silent. That which comes so easy for me had deserted me and all I found was emptiness. Me - who is seldom at a loss for words found myself unable to speak.

Paul pushed on until the end of the session but I could not break free. I could not connect with any of those emotions. All I felt was silence and confusion.

Then, at home, the first lightbulb came on. I would begin by yelling out to the world that I was finished being silent. The child who ran to her room angry, who was left alone with that anger, who eventually denied the anger and with it her right to express it, was choosing to voice that anger.

I called Paul and went back into therapy for day two. I yelled. I yelled to the world beyond his door. I yelled that I was not going to be silenced any longer. I yelled for the child. It was kind of fun. I talked about how it felt to have been told repeatedly in life that being myself was not acceptable. I didn't lack for words. But, when Paul asked me once again how it felt to silence myself or to be silenced by myself, I sat like a knot on a log - very silent.

It was frustrating, though he assured me I would get there. He also informed me that he would be out of the office the remainder of the week.

That evening the truth suddenly sank in. It was ME, not the world who was silencing me. It was no longer my parents, the church, or society who told me to be quiet and rock no boats. I know this sounds like a given - surely I must have realized that before - and I had - at one level. Now at a deeper level, the realization stunned me. All these years, the anger I had felt towards the universe was my own. It was me who was telling me that I could not be myself.

That is when I saw the picture of the two me's fighting that I described in the last post. Fear wrestled with anger. The fear of reprisal and rejection causes one part of me to try to silence the other. The other responds forcefully and angrily and spews that anger everywhere she speaks.

The realization humbled me. Sadness came. I thought about it, finally able to feel and trying to wrap my mind around all the feelings that I will need to express to Paul in therapy tomorrow. I knew that now I could answer his questions and was anxious to get on with it. Very anxious, like a claustrophobic in an tunnel is anxious to get out.

The old torment had begun. Slowly at first and then with immense intensity, I longed to be in Paul's office. I NEEDED to talk with him. I could not get my mind off of therapy. I HAD to be there. I hungered and thirsted for his attention. I was desperate.

At first I decided the thoughts of Paul were my mind's way of avoiding dealing with the pain of my self rejection but it grew nevertheless to agonizing proportions . Finally with the lust for Paul's nurture and attention at levels I have not experienced since the beginning of therapy with Cheryl 8 years ago, I had enough. I spoke out loud. "I will not go through again. I will quit. I was doing fine without Paul and I WILL NOT put myself through this kind of torment again."

Then I heard these words "What if the longing you feel isn't for Paul? Di, what if it is really yourself you are longing for?" With those two questions the shocking reality hit. Like a rubber band that is stretched to its limit and pops back to sting its shooter, so the truth stung me. In that moment I stretched my mind around the truth - it is myself I am longing for.

As the moment of clarity snapped into place, the horrendous torment released me. I was free. The addictive longing for Paul's attention ended. All of last night, all of today, it has been gone. Freedom. Blessed freedom.

I am looking forward to telling Paul these happenings but it is myself I long for, not Paul. No torment exists - just peace. I am quite sure Paul will avoid offering me any kind of praise lest I latch on to it. I am sure he will simply question me as to how it is with Di at this moment? Then he will find my limits and push more.