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Wednesday, 18 September 2013

Let's play house therapist

Why can't I get him out of my head...?

Right.

Mating season. Remind me to look elsewhere in the blog, but I'm almost sure it's around the same time every year. This time I know it's definitely mating season because I've seen insects copulating everywhere the last week or so. Just everywhere. One insect stuck to another. They fly like this, walk like this, crawl over my hands as I type like this.

While we’re on the subject, dear blog, I spy a suspicion and a familiar feeling. Methinks we’ve got a starer on our hands. Not quite like it was with LesMisGuy. Not quite. Admittedly, he’s kind of handsome and I had caught myself glancing his way as I pretended to turn to look at whoever was talking in the back, but there’s something off about him. It didn’t jump right at me in MrInteresting until he showed his true colours but something is off about this one. He’s… broken, somehow. It’s almost like when you see the military types. The ones who’ve seen what cannot be unseen and are (rightly) shaken by it. Even though they’ve learned not to show it. Won’t give him a name just yet. I’d need more information. He has the benefit of my doubt.

If you were wondering, yes, my reaction was to flip out and very decidedly not look his way… for a while. I then checked myself and tried the all too familiar glance-back trying to check if he was, in fact, looking at me like I’d thought the first few times. I can feel him looking my way when I’m not doing anything in particular and it bothers me. What’s also bothering me is that I’m not sure (I can’t be) how much of this instinct that whispers “Watch out!” is just past experience being biased by the creep magnet I haven’t been able to get rid off just yet.

I suppose this is the sort of thing you’d want to talk about with a friend. Or  a therapist. And the therapist did ask me today if I was in a relationship, or I’d ever been in one, or I was interested in having one. And my sexual orientation, for good measure. My answers? “No” (of course not!), “… er… not really” and “I guess not.” Because I’m not interested in anyone (who could possibly be interested in me). Interesting question from the mentor therapist (I think it was her, at any rate) was: am I still friends with D? No. I suppose the nature of my relationship to him would be a picnic for them.

Would I have talked about LesMisGuy, I wonder…? What is there to say? “There was this guy in the maths department. We had this shy flirtation going on for about a year. I mustered up the courage to ask him out and we eventually did… twice. First time we just had coffee and talked a lot and said goodbye. Couple of months later we went out again and, after talking for hours, we ended up kissing. Then I didn’t hear much from him ever again. What do I mean? That I tried talking to him a few days after the fact but he was busy. I barely got to say ‘hi’ if he showed up for class at all. I tried asking him out again and all he said was ‘No can do, maybe some other time.’ And that time never came. What did I do then? Try to become invisible. I didn’t try talking to him again (and he didn’t approach me either). I did my best to run away from him and ignore him when I saw him around campus. This one time we were just walking straight into each other and it would have felt rude not to say anything, so I greeted him. And he greeted me. And then we both kept on walking our separate ways and have never spoken again since.” Awesome, isn’t it? And that was almost two years ago. And that’s about it as far as relationships go for me.

Would I mention SmTn? What would I say? “Well… there sort of is someone else. But not really. Except… yeah, it’s complicated. There was this maths and physics summer school two years ago. It was in this small town for two or three weeks and you got to meet and hang out with people from all over the world. Town festivities were in place and we got to party, even with the professors, and it was the most fun I’ve had… ever. I don’t think I’d ever enjoyed partying until I went out partying with my own kind. People who understood I don’t like to be hugged, I’m a terrible dancer and I’m not as sexually experienced as some would apparently believe. I met someone there. Sweetest man I know, hands down. He… It’s not fair to say he was infatuated with me, because it was more than that, and I can’t say he fell in love with me at first sight. Can we pretend there’s a word for something in between? His words were something along the lines of “I felt an instant connection to you, the likes of which I’d only ever felt with one other person.” He said he wishes he’d held me in his arms and kissed me, if only once. He mentioned it was cosmically wrong that we couldn’t be together. In those words. Not that long ago, he said I made him want to be a better person and I was very special for him. He also said he has a girlfriend… who he lives with. I asked. It’s the reason all we ever did before he left the summer school was hug goodbye and exchange e-mail addresses. Two years later we’re still good friends and I hold him very dear. I try my best to keep our conversations on the safe side of “he has a girlfriend” and yet I know, deep down, that this is an emotional affair. I know for a fact that he only talks to me when he’s alone in his office, or late at night when his girlfriend is asleep, or whenever he’s alone. I mentioned I don’t like the idea of him having to sneak behind her back to talk to me, and I want to believe we don’t talk of anything worth sneaking around for… but there are complicated feelings at play. And impossibility. Above all, impossibility. “

Except the therapist wouldn’t let me talk that much. I don’t think so, no. I would take too long to explain all this and she’d probably have questions or she’d decide none of this is worth her time (or anyone’s really.) She’s not supposed to help me with relationship problems, after all. I even lied a bit and downplayed the sadness and underlying depression. It’s bad enough that mention (why did she have to ask again?) of suicide still makes me cry. It’s bad enough that I (again) failed to mention that I did go as far as thinking of plans to carry it out. I didn’t try them, but I thought about it. I even thought of making a statement with it. College shouldn’t be so fucking expensive that people kill themselves to get out of the pressure of having to pay for it and perform well as a student. Something about this therapist (could be just the lack of eye contact, could be something else) just doesn’t invite trust. Something about her makes me feel like she doesn’t quite understand me (not that I think the others did understand me, but they could at least pretend that they did and make me feel like they did). Someone told me once that psychologists have some underlying problem they hope they’ll be able to solve by studying psychology. My hypothesis is that good psychologists have learned to get over it and this therapist hasn’t. I may be reading a bit too much into it, though. Don’t quote me on that. For now, it may be best to search online and find out how to better express myself and help her understand me. It may be best to find out what she needs to know to help me and give her those answers. Without the dry protocol. I just want the tools to be a smart patient. It would probably help me treat myself better, too. I guess. Just being able to talk to myself or write to myself and have a vague notion of the criteria a therapist is looking for and what they’ve been trained to say to such things. What are the important questions that need asking?

What are the important things that need to be studied? The things they’re asking me tomorrow in the exam I still haven’t studied for.

Fuck.

[9:05pm edit]
Come to think of it, I told more than just the one lie. I also made omissions in the history of depression in the family and the drinking problems. Do you get to correct these?

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