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Monthly Archives: July 2015

Analysis is interesting, intense, intimate.

My analyst is really good. Her interpretations are accurate, but it’s about more than the interpretations. She is present with me. She is thinking about what I’m thinking about. When she makes mistakes, she apologizes and learns from them, and moves on. When I make mistakes, I apologize, learn, and move on. In just four months, we have a good relationship.

Of course, it is important to be honest, but I’m seeing just how important that is. It really goes a long way in moving the analysis. And when I am honest, there is no judgment on her part.

I’ve learned a lot in a few short months. My mother was constantly over- or under-stimulating, so I engage in self-destructive behaviours to recreate that inner state – it’s all I’ve known. Thankfully, my analyst listened to what I needed and agreed to sit next to me during our sessions. Her physical presence keeps me calm, which is something I don’t experience outside of her office. I’m able to tolerate more difficult topics and more boring sessions without feeling like I need to run to the bathroom and hurt myself.

Also, my analyst identified how my parents’ harmful patterns are now seeping into my daughter’s life. Thankfully, my daughter remains unaware of these influences, but it is important to me that they are stopped before she becomes affected by them. It sounds like it’s time that I put in some firm boundaries. It’s a scary prospect because it means my parents will likely end up hurt, and I might feel them pull back from me. But my daughter’s wellbeing must come first. There is no option, there.

There is still a lot of work to be done. Alexithymia is a bitch. It is often difficult for me to know how to think or feel or act in many situations because I was never taught how. But I have a lot of faith in my analyst and in the process of the analytic relationship. There is movement.

My tiny baby is almost a year old, and she really isn’t tiny.

The nostalgia is hitting me hard. At this time last year I was ridiculously pregnant and hot and irritable and I wanted that baby out. A lot of my pregnancy, actually, was uncomfortable and tinged with ambivalence. I had no idea how to be a mother and was skeptical if I should be one, if I was so uncertain of how to take care of a baby. I felt a fierce amount of protection around the little creature who kept kicking my ribs, but I didn’t know if I would know how to love her. Becoming a parent is the most natural thing a person can do, and I was at a loss.

Everywhere I turned I came up empty. There was the American influence of getting your baby to be independent as quickly as possible. It was confusing advice as it went against my better judgment. And turning to my mother was no help. Looking inside myself for answers was murky and unclear, because I wasn’t properly mothered myself. How can you be what you’ve never known?

My analyst is now sitting next to me on the floor, as per my request. She remarked yesterday that it’s about meeting me where I am, which is exactly what I’m trying to do with my daughter. I think it is working. We have a very strong bond, and her little spirit is not broken.

But I am still wistful for the days of my pregnancy. I wish I could go back and reconnect with my baby in that way. I worry that she could feel how unsure I was about being a mother. Now I am trying to be with her exactly where she is, in case she needs extra reassurance that there was not one second of her life in which I did not love her with every fibre of my being.