I'm going through rather hellish months. I've gotten myself into a relationship again that's hurting me, that's wearing me down. Months of fights, misunderstandings, scenes that repeat identically, but precisely for that reason, increasingly painful.
From a certain point of view, it's normal. Romantic relationships, if they're good, at some point always bring out your traumas, your most vulnerable parts that haven't yet healed.
We're in the middle of a personal growth process that goes through a game of mirrors. Right now she's the one in full denial, doing everything she can to avoid facing her past traumas, finding any expedient. And I'm enduring the inevitable process, I'm the puppet that represents one trauma one moment, another the next.
A year ago, we were in the opposite situation.
When we were at the therapist's last session, I (we, actually) saw a bit of light again, but it ended within a weekend. What was it that gave me (us) a positive feeling?
Well, we spoke frankly and without mincing words about the problems: there was a person there who wasn't afraid of the situation: not her, not me. The therapist. This put us both on a plane of calm.
She told us a lot of heavy stuff, sure ("you have a cancer that's quite extensive, but well-defined," wow), but she was calm. And she passed that calm on to us.
What would I need from T. right now?
I'm living through a new phase. The two stable pillars on which I've founded practically my entire adult life, children and work, are no longer so stable. They're not enough to sustain my existence.
The kids are grown. The relationship is on the threshold of definitively transforming into something different. I feel it clearly. They no longer need me, at least not with the intensity and constancy of these last twenty years. They're beings I love deeply, and who (fortunately) I see as entities increasingly separate from myself. I'll always be there, I wish them every happiness, and I'm sincerely proud to watch them evolve. But I know they'll want more and more to throw themselves into their own lives, which are not mine.
Work-wise? I've realized my teenage dream. To the letter. What I wanted, all of it, in its entirety. The company I wanted, with the people I always dreamed of. Money, beyond any most distant and optimistic prediction. A product used by thousands of people, all over the world, to create wonderful things. And in this case too, ironically, the conclusion is the same. I'll always be there, I'm sincerely proud to watch it evolve and grow. But I'm no longer necessary the way I was.
What would I need from T. right now? Someone who listens to me, and then simplifies, reduces. Who normalizes, who puts things in perspective. Instead she follows me step by step in my sadness, in my reasoning distorted by the moment.
She treats them as gravely as I feel them, probably because she's afraid, through one of the usual mirror games. And so she doesn't help me.
But then the question comes: if I know what I want, why can't I give it to myself? I can. And in fact I'm here taking quality time with myself to heal, to give myself what I know I need.
It will be a long road for me to find a new meaning, new meanings. Long and tiring. I was very fortunate, for a long time, to have two such big and stable supports, but all things end.
It's time to roll up my sleeves, and not let anxiety take over. In the end, we grow precisely in these moments.
