Psychoanalysis is fundamentally selfish. You are there seeking happiness and peace for yourself.
I realized in the course of mine, however, that, try as I might, I have lived to serve my mother. We all have. Father, brother, sister, spouses, now my son. She wanted to be the proper mother and couldn’t, so we had to pretend. Pretend that we were getting the care we needed, pretend that we loved her more than our own lives, and after a while it all became true.
I thought I would find a little for myself in the end, through the long loopy fight, set myself against her–it only served her–she became the martyr, and loved it.
Now there’s nothing left.
She will pass sooner or later. I may pass sooner. I can only trust in God for solace in this situation.
Praying that psychiatry really is a better science today than it was thirty years ago. Praying that my psychiatrist, with whom I have left a message, will be forthcoming with help and understanding. He is an Arab and didn’t understand me very well and thought I was manipulating him. My condition is very difficult to understand. For instance, in the ER last week when I went for spasming in my groin, the spasms stopped at exactly 11:03 p.m. after I had waited for an hour or more. I went into a convulsive state and noted, myself, that my speech was slow and my thoughts off-topic when I finally got into a room and was trying to talk with the nurse. The doctors made fun of me, and stated that the problem was nothing serious.
I have been made fun of all my life for a serious problem.
My psychoanalysis took thirty years!
Peace, is the miracle.
I forgive the “Damn Bitch” I’m seeing right now cuz, like the Lord said, she is helping me in a way I did not understand. She wants me to get well. Something difficult for a chronic psych patient from the 80′s to grasp.
I have my urogynecological appointment set up, and it is a necessary piece of the picture. For this set of problems affected my day to day life in a way that I did not understand at the time.
But my mother’s illness is the chief complaint in my life and in that of my whole family, and the cause of my husband’s ruin.
I have been speaking to her in her sleep. She does that. Abnormal, yes. The king of thing that has driven me bonkers my whole life. (Br. exp.?)
For instance, psychoanalysis shows me that my problems are about my mother. NOT the gyny problem or even my father’s sexual abuse, which was a consequence of it. All, were consequences of my mother’s mental illness and subsequent ectopic pregnancy when I was five.
So the psychotherapist who tried to do psychoanalysis but didn’t know how, but DID point out that my mother, not my father, was my issue, was on target, tho her ineptitude screwed up my life.
I see my whole life laid out clear, clinging to a windy mountain peak like Lily Briscoe after Mrs. Ramsay’s death in “To the Lighthouse”: clinging to my mother, always in mortal peril, in her death in life following from almost dying, saved only by medical intervention, when she lost her third child. She was changed after that. All the desperation over her, the hatred, her later sickness, her devastating impact on my life, become clear. And the dramatic and disastrous course of my life, to date, fall into place.
Have you noticed you never hear miracle stories coming out of the psych world?
It is just a trap people fall into. The miracle comes when someone finally gets OUT.
I hope to be one of those miracles.
Have an appointment with a gynecologist for my wiggy clit.
My mother now has my spare apartment key and is coming with me to my next appointment with Maureen.
Know that once you want into the door of any license mental health practitioner’s office you are walking into a portal of the System for the Management of the Mentally Ill. You do not know what could happen to you next.
It’s been thirty years…
Went back to sleep and had a nightmare.
Stuck on a psych ward where everything was crazy. Found the closet door open where my purse was, and a unit door wide open, and left in my hospital pajamas. But decided I couldn’t go home like that and reparked my car and tried to go back to the third floor, I was in a department store at this point but there were some very nasty people who wouldn’t let me get to my floor and then three women in cat masks held me and said (I was telling them I thought I was pregnant and they laughed) one of them said, “I think you know what attention is.”
Woke up saying out loud “I took a pregnancy test and it was positive;” and found I was extremely nauseous.