Rage

Last night I awoke with a hot flash and a piercing fear/rage/despair, accompanied by an image of my mother in her dementia care home and a sense that I must, must, must do something to fix her horrible. This had happened a few nights over the past week and I'd responded by sitting up and attending to the sensations and the inner child. This time I decided to do this work lying down. First I tried pushing and kicking an imaginary person who was lying on top of me, getting them off of me. This didn't provide any release or insight. Did it a few times. Then (against great resistance that I shouldn't bother anybody about this) I woke Eric and asked him to lie on top of me, and I repeated this. Still, no release, no insight. Very uncomfortable feelings in the arms, the torso.

Finally I noticed the comfort, pleasure I felt at having Eric lie on top of me. I realized I enjoyed that and wanted it very much, and thus was conflicted about pushing him off of me. I wanted him and didn't want him. I tried noticing the comfort/pleasure and seeing what else was there, and saw that the right side of my body didn't want to push him off but it wanted some kind of expression. I worked very, very hard to bring my attention to the inner child and ask her what she wanted. I tried to be her and feel her rather than conceptualize her and it was very difficult, especially since I also had to repeatedly dismiss voices that said I shouldn't bother Eric with this. But over many minutes I grew more at ease and began moving my body slightly according to urges that I found. More ease, more movement -- a virtuous cycle. But I also continuously felt tired, fatigued -- I wanted to rest, to sleep. Is this giving up on myself, or giving myself rest? Finally I said, "let's both go back to sleep." It took me some time to fall back asleep. I felt quite at ease in Eric's arms after all that, but not 100%.

Following on that--intense session with T this morning. Anger. Stayed with anger, followed T's instructions even though they intensified the anger. He encouraged me to say that I hated him, or something like that, but couldn't do that without shutting down. Finally I began to voice my frustrations and moved toward saying I wanted him to visit my home and my work to find out more about me so he could help me more efficiently. This felt right and good, but when I left his office 1.5 hours ago I felt such strong sensations in the right side and they are still with me, making it hard to work. But I will work alongside them as much as I can.

Exploring craving

Spending my Sunday mindfully doing the work I am paid to do. Am aware of this familiar craving, seemingly with no object. I think I can explore it a little now ...

opening ... releasing ... softening and pleasure in the right throat ... in the right jaw ... no longer craving, but desire to push or punch ... visualizing receiving the torso of my mother ... in my imagination I immediately want to push away as soon as I receive ... the receiving brings no satisfaction, no comfort. Asking again, what do I want? A huge palace, sumptuously furnished with very high ceilings ... and a body that can dance and move in every direction, can bend backwards ... I want something to push gently into my abdomen, into that special place that craves, my caecum ...

I do massage that place, gently. As in many past similar sessions, there is some sense of partial satisfaction ... similar physical cravings arise in the vulva, jaw, neck, throat ... I move my body, swaying, to specifically, precisely satisfy those cravings ... but only partially. Again I imagine being received in somebody's arms, and again I imagine immediately feeling repelled. My mind returns to my work: must keep accomplishing work! When I set aside that thought, the horribly mournful sound of aircraft overhead comes into my awareness and I feel the black depths, the void. Perhaps I can look into the void, as Trip taught me, without falling in: describe its shape, texture, smell, color ... today, the void looks like a bright hot summer day in central California, a long straight dusty road heading off into the distance, a vehicle driving away from us, never to return.

<30 minutes later>

Massaged that spot in the abdomen while lying on the loveseat in the sun. Still, only partial satisfaction, but the craving never ends. When the sense of the void arises, I recall the image of the road and the vehicle. I am standing on the road in a cotton dress, an adult holding me gently by the shoulders or chest as I feel the longing for whoever is in that vehicle. I recall the image and tell myself that that was long ago, and that now I will not be abandoned in the same way. This allows a bit more satisfaction to arise, allows fantasies of what I desire to appear more fully ... I desire for this spot on my abdomen to be like a vagina, a vagina small enough for just my finger ... if my finger could go in, there would be so much pleasure in my vulva. It reaches a spot where there is sunshine and wildflowers. Massaging my actual vagina or vulva would not be the same at all! Too exposed, too inconvenient ... the sensations too intense ... not cozy enough.

Now, having returned to my chair, I still feel some craving, but also some contentment. Ready to move on.

A fantasy of humiliating another person

On the drive to my psychotherapy session with T on Wednesday, a fantasy image crystallized in my mind: that of stepping on the face of my partner, E, and grinding his face into the mud with a waffle-soled boot.

This image didn't appear suddenly all of a piece, but gradually came into focus. The first thing I thought was, "E is right. I do have a buried desire to humiliate him!"

I talked about this with T, and said how uncomfortable I felt about it. He encouraged me not to focus on the idea that my fantasy involved hurting someone I loved, but to focus instead on how it felt, especially any pleasure involved. I found that it seemed very pleasurable indeed. I enjoyed, while pondering these mental images, pressing my right foot into the ground and rotating and gyrating my right foot as though I were acting out the fantasy. Pleasant tingling sensations arose, akin to massage, and I also felt pleasure in my vulva. I felt powerful, like nobody was going to hurt me now.

I just had an idea: I'd like to own and wear some boots.

Two very old stories of loss, long forgotten, now coming to light.

I often have the sense that there is not enough time for me. Especially during psychotherapy sessions. Last week I got some insight into this during a session. I was already working very deeply, and the familiar thought arose, "there is not enough time". And I had the strong sense that when I was very young, there was a situation when someone was helping me but there was not enough time. And that today, I actually keep myself from participating fully in therapy so that time will run out -- because I want T, my therapist, to know how terrible that was -- to have someone helping me, but then running out of time. T said, "sounds like you lost someone". That felt true, though I couldn't think of any person I'd actually lost. I said, "yes, and I've been looking for them ever since." Earlier in the same session I was accessing a child state that was age 4-11: "during the time I was searching, but before I gave up."

The sound of a train whistle, especially when at a constant tone & not varying with the Doppler effect, brings to mind a state of extreme emergency and loss. Worked with this yesterday with T. He encouraged me to vocalize any images that came to mind. Train -- the engine car -- Southern Pacific train on tracks in Millbrae -- car -- the old beige Pontiac -- it's night -- or foggy -- I'm in the back seat behind the driver, age < 3 or even < 2 -- the train whistle -- or maybe the car horn -- a bright light like a headlight -- I'm screaming -- I'm completely on my own. Everything ended then and it hasn't been the same since.