The day dawned bright and strong, its golden rays playing on my bed trying to rouse me from my slumbers. I opened an eye and looked straight at Max, he was less than an inch from my face, I felt his tail wagging furiously and I felt his breath. I was on my side and tried to shift and move onto my back, my back ached horribly.
The door creaked open my father walked in and stood at the bottom of the bed, Max stiffened and growled but wouldn’t look at him. He put the palms of his hands on the wooden base and leant forward his chin jutting forward grotesquely, Max leapt up barking and snarling. My father grinned and slowly faded away leaving nothing behind him. He visits from time to time reminding me of who he was. RIP Dad
The day has arrived, the day I dreaded for so long. The creeping fear that I always carry with me like a shell on my snails back was growing steadily until it finally engulfed me. Its dark inside, I can hear my heartbeat inside its cavernous shell. Theres a loneliness inside me and outside in the shell, I feel an unwillingness to accept it but the blackness resolves to extinguish any hope of light.
The fear of attachment is now real.
Well I missed out session one but you didn’t miss much it was just the usual “tell me about yourself” and the boundaries etc but today was session two and to the uninitiated thats usually when we get started for real, only this course isn’t usual, its twenty sessions long and that isn’t usual, not in my experience anyway. She is using mindfulness which I thought was all about listening to the birds singing and the sound of your toenails growing, you can’t hear yours ? you really need to get those socks off.
If CBT is a metaphorical grave then today we removed the topsoil and took a look at the earth beneath, she thinks its dark. I’m sure she’s gonna need a bigger shovel.
to be continued…..
A while ago I attended a hastily organised appointment close to where I live. As we all shuffled into place I took a close look at the assembled people (all women) sitting in front of me. The room wasn’t big enough for all of us and I began to let my mind wander, I felt a little disconnected like things were happening to me without any effort or steer. I felt drunk almost, I looked at the people sitting in a line in front of me and I felt like the floor could creak and give way, sending us all into the depths below. Oblivion, falling into the abyss, what is that famous quote ? ‘If you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares back at you’. I was actually thinking about Neitzsche whilst these people were wondering how to start.
Someone coughed and the largish woman sitting directly in front of me began to speak in that all too familiar way, thank you for coming blah blah, how are you feeling ? blah blah. Then something woke me up with a start, like the snap of a hypnotists fingers she said the words “affective dysregulation” which in layman’s terms means emotional instability. ‘Are you listening ? the largish woman asked, ‘I’m thinking’ I answered, ‘do you know what a personality disorder is ?’ She replied. ‘I should do, it fits me like a glove love’.
Later today I’m going to start lifting the lid on the process that leads up to a personality disorder. I call it called early trauma and I’m beginning to understand it.
After a year back in sales it looks likely I’ll be going back to driving my old black cab around London once more. I feel like a crab that lost its shell, grubbing around aimlessly I found it again and I’m edging and shuffling my way back underneath it, to rise up on my feet soon with the shell resplendent back in place where it’s supposed to be.
At least the ‘kipper’ as we like to refer to the baron period after the New Year is over now, lines and lines of empty cabs waiting at stations and ranks all over London. The feeling of triumph at being able to squeeze on to the back of one as no doubt a desperate cabbie had pulled off and gone home freeing up a space for me. A book is brought out of the bag and the pages begin the process of being stared at with moving eyes analysing the words, fingers keen to turn the pages as the story unfolds. The cabs edging slowly forward all the time and the small feeling of anticipation building as the wheels roll.