Forums
New posts
Search forums
What's new
New posts
New profile posts
Latest activity
Internet Search
Members
Current visitors
New profile posts
Search profile posts
Log in
Register
What's new
Search
Search
Search titles only
By:
New posts
Search forums
Menu
Log in
Register
Install the app
Install
Forums
General Discussions
Family of Origin
Work and Germany Part II: Abandonment Recovery
JavaScript is disabled. For a better experience, please enable JavaScript in your browser before proceeding.
You are using an out of date browser. It may not display this or other websites correctly.
You should upgrade or use an
alternative browser
.
Reply to thread
Message
<blockquote data-quote="Copabanana" data-source="post: 673785" data-attributes="member: 18958"><p>I have written before that I entered psychoanalysis as a young woman. I wanted to change. It did not have the result I had hoped for. I admire myself so much for my audacity. Raised in a working class family, I had barely the concept of what it was. But I paid the fortune of money. To change. To what or why I did not know.</p><p></p><p>Within the first year the process got quite painful. I went 4 days a week, which is the process. By developing a dependency upon the analyst, called a transference, the idea is that you play out your inner conflicts by means of what is projected upon the analyst.</p><p></p><p>It did not quite work out that way. I was in agony. The process was an agony for me. And yet I could not leave. </p><p></p><p>The more agony I felt the more damaged I felt. The more I felt it was my fault. That something in me was so broken, it was precluding my changing, my growing, my recovery by means of the treatment.</p><p></p><p>The analyst would ask: What is it about "wanting" that is hard for you?</p><p></p><p>It was as if he was speaking to be in Taiwanese or Swahili or Assyrian, when he asked this question of me.</p><p></p><p>How in the world could I know? Ask me a question I can answer, not one I could never, ever know, and still do not.</p><p></p><p>In another thread I was grappling with my feelings of dependency upon my own son. How I felt stuck in a dance of love and anger with him because I felt as if my heart was captive to follow him where ever he went. </p><p></p><p>The answer of course is to free my own heart and to gain control over what nourishes it, and where I allow it to go. I listened to the counsel I was given.</p><p></p><p>What arose though was the same panic that came up when the analyst would ask me about "wanting."</p><p></p><p>How to do that when the starting point is so disadvantaged. When I begin from the place of abject and desperate. </p><p></p><p>How to feel or phrase a question. When one starts from a place of "no place to stand?" When there are no words. Nothing. Just desperate feeling. Of being without. Of lack. </p><p></p><p>The only thing one wants is to live. To live freely. To choose. To have. </p><p></p><p>I used to tell the analyst that I felt like a trapped animal and the only way to escape was to eat off my own limb. </p><p></p><p>The desperate place and thing I felt. Felt like that.</p><p></p><p>Was it autonomy or control or decisiveness that were the killing things, to me? Was I so fearful of what I would do with whatever capacity I felt so terrible that I had to gnaw up my flesh if I threatened to feel that power or capacity?</p><p></p><p>What is it when you are not your own? Fully your own. And that is your starting place. When you are infiltrated at such a deep place with ambivalence about who and what you are...that there cannot or will not be intent...that is pure and safe? At the heart of you.</p><p></p><p>What is the consequence that could scare me so much that I would rather destroy myself then feel and enact my own capacity?</p><p></p><p>I do not know or am refusing to see. For now. I gain confidence and strength doing this with you all. You hold my hand and whisper to me that I am stronger than I feel and not alone.</p><p></p><p>COPA</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Copabanana, post: 673785, member: 18958"] I have written before that I entered psychoanalysis as a young woman. I wanted to change. It did not have the result I had hoped for. I admire myself so much for my audacity. Raised in a working class family, I had barely the concept of what it was. But I paid the fortune of money. To change. To what or why I did not know. Within the first year the process got quite painful. I went 4 days a week, which is the process. By developing a dependency upon the analyst, called a transference, the idea is that you play out your inner conflicts by means of what is projected upon the analyst. It did not quite work out that way. I was in agony. The process was an agony for me. And yet I could not leave. The more agony I felt the more damaged I felt. The more I felt it was my fault. That something in me was so broken, it was precluding my changing, my growing, my recovery by means of the treatment. The analyst would ask: What is it about "wanting" that is hard for you? It was as if he was speaking to be in Taiwanese or Swahili or Assyrian, when he asked this question of me. How in the world could I know? Ask me a question I can answer, not one I could never, ever know, and still do not. In another thread I was grappling with my feelings of dependency upon my own son. How I felt stuck in a dance of love and anger with him because I felt as if my heart was captive to follow him where ever he went. The answer of course is to free my own heart and to gain control over what nourishes it, and where I allow it to go. I listened to the counsel I was given. What arose though was the same panic that came up when the analyst would ask me about "wanting." How to do that when the starting point is so disadvantaged. When I begin from the place of abject and desperate. How to feel or phrase a question. When one starts from a place of "no place to stand?" When there are no words. Nothing. Just desperate feeling. Of being without. Of lack. The only thing one wants is to live. To live freely. To choose. To have. I used to tell the analyst that I felt like a trapped animal and the only way to escape was to eat off my own limb. The desperate place and thing I felt. Felt like that. Was it autonomy or control or decisiveness that were the killing things, to me? Was I so fearful of what I would do with whatever capacity I felt so terrible that I had to gnaw up my flesh if I threatened to feel that power or capacity? What is it when you are not your own? Fully your own. And that is your starting place. When you are infiltrated at such a deep place with ambivalence about who and what you are...that there cannot or will not be intent...that is pure and safe? At the heart of you. What is the consequence that could scare me so much that I would rather destroy myself then feel and enact my own capacity? I do not know or am refusing to see. For now. I gain confidence and strength doing this with you all. You hold my hand and whisper to me that I am stronger than I feel and not alone. COPA [/QUOTE]
Insert quotes…
Verification
Post reply
Forums
General Discussions
Family of Origin
Work and Germany Part II: Abandonment Recovery
Top