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Dr. Bob is Robert Hsiung, MD,
bob@dr-bob.orgShown: posts 1 to 7 of 7. This is the beginning of the thread.
Posted by Dinah on January 9, 2012, at 11:01:59
It's funny, because I never idealized my therapist per se.
But I *have* classed him with parents (pre-teen). That however imperfect he was, he somehow had the ability to protect me.
I think I am beginning to see him as just another person. When I'm feeling distressed, I can still manage to cloak him in the super-parent cape. But a lot of the time, I see him as another person, just as I am.
He's not a great parent. In fact, he said something to me in passing that led me to feel compelled to say something stern as a mother. I did ask his permission first. I don't know that I'd want to spend time with him outside session. I'm not saying he's a terrible person. He's not. He's a pretty good guy.
But... I miss the day when it would never occur to me to refer to my therapist as a guy, pretty good or not.
Is this a necessary part of the therapeutic journey? Why can't I let him keep his cape? What's so bad about having a Super-Parent in one's life?
Posted by Dinah on January 9, 2012, at 11:03:58
In reply to Not so ideal therapist., posted by Dinah on January 9, 2012, at 11:01:59
Given who I am, and my need to develop my own conclusions, I think he was the ideal therapist - for me. I can't imagine another therapist being as ideal.
Not a Super Hero Therapist would fit better.
Posted by Wittgensteinz on January 9, 2012, at 14:27:17
In reply to Bad title, posted by Dinah on January 9, 2012, at 11:03:58
Yes, this is a change - is he still your 'therapist mommy' as you used to affectionately refer to him?
Maybe he does need to lose his cloak (except for on special occasions) - maybe that's a necessary part of the process, even though it evokes perhaps a sense of grief? In the same way he loses his grip over you - or you loosen your grip over him (not to imply that he is controlling you or vice versa but rather that he is important to you). In a perfect world would the perfect-parent ever let their child go? Surely they'd be there forever and ever and ever. In the real world, this just isn't how it works. Perhaps at some point, we all have to let go of this fantasy.
It's funny, in some ways I am horrified by my T's displays of being a mere mortal - like the time he had crutches. I cried and cried and couldn't understand why I felt so overwhelmed with anxiety - only after the crutches were gone could I rationalize what it was all about. On other occasions however I find his imperfections quite endearing (like the last session when he cursed loudly after having accidentally broken one of the light fittings). I want him to be imperfect, human like me then I don't feel so self-conscious about all the things I share/confess - yet I want him to be perfect and immortal so that he is reliable and never leaves me or lets me down.
Witti
Posted by emmanuel98 on January 9, 2012, at 21:20:07
In reply to Re: Bad title, posted by Wittgensteinz on January 9, 2012, at 14:27:17
Oh god! What we want want want from therapists. It's funny. I love my SW. She is really competent. I trust her completely. I am grateful to her. She has really, really helped me with a level of depression and suicidality that I (and she and my p-doc) was convinced was going to kill me. But I don't love her. If she disappeared tomorrow, I would be sad but not heart-broken. If my p-doc disappeared, I couldn't handle it at all. I have nightmares where I come to his office and find someone else there who tells me he has had a heart attack or stroke, but won't tell me whether he is alive or dead. I dream that I call his office and there is no voicemail. I dream that he has retired and didn't tell me.
Maybe it's because he is the first person I ever truly trusted. Even my husband, who I love, can be harsh and hurtful and I felt I needed to show strength and independence with him -- that those are the qualities I had which he respected. For some reason I let go of all that with my p-doc. I think I had reached such a deep bottom that I latched onto him as someone safe, in whom I could confide. So I told him things about my f***ed up life that I had never told anyone before. He was so kind and supportive and attentive. It felt like having a loving parent, something I never had had.
I don't know. I don't know what to do with all this emotion I have for him. I am grateful for his boundaries in a way. If he were less careful about this, I would have destroyed my life and marraige for him. But sometimes I find those boundaries so painful. I want him to need me. I want to take care of him. I want him to love me.
He says he does not love me in the same way I love him. That he does not need me in the same way I need him. He asks, what would that be like if I did? How could this work? And I get his point, but I can't seem to accept this fully.
Posted by Dinah on January 10, 2012, at 8:58:57
In reply to Re: Bad title, posted by Wittgensteinz on January 9, 2012, at 14:27:17
He's still my therapist mommy. All the time really. Maybe it's getting to be the therapist mommy of a teenager or something. You can still cry for mommy when you need him, but at other times you see how human mommy can be, and it's kind of scary.
I suppose that I wonder how such a very mortal guy can be the superhero-mommy I need some times. I hope I remain good at putting a cape on him when I need to.
I want to live in the perfect world. :(
You know, with my son it was him pushing me away and me obligingly stepping back to give him the distance he requested. I wonder if that's how it seems to most parents. I don't *think* that's what's happening with my therapist. I don't think either of us is pushing, although I do wonder if my therapist deliberately lets me see his humanness in this stage of therapy.
Posted by Dinah on January 10, 2012, at 9:10:01
In reply to Re: Bad title, posted by emmanuel98 on January 9, 2012, at 21:20:07
> Oh god! What we want want want from therapists. It's funny. I love my SW. She is really competent. I trust her completely. I am grateful to her. She has really, really helped me with a level of depression and suicidality that I (and she and my p-doc) was convinced was going to kill me. But I don't love her. If she disappeared tomorrow, I would be sad but not heart-broken. If my p-doc disappeared, I couldn't handle it at all. I have nightmares where I come to his office and find someone else there who tells me he has had a heart attack or stroke, but won't tell me whether he is alive or dead. I dream that I call his office and there is no voicemail. I dream that he has retired and didn't tell me.
I had those fears as well. I used to push my therapist for details of who would contact me. What would happen if he died? What would happen to me? He said he hoped I'd come to his funeral. I said I wouldn't, because the widow really should be the most distraught person at a funeral and it wouldn't be fair of me to go and have hysterics. It's become an in joke between us, but I'm not sure if he understood really.
> Maybe it's because he is the first person I ever truly trusted. Even my husband, who I love, can be harsh and hurtful and I felt I needed to show strength and independence with him -- that those are the qualities I had which he respected. For some reason I let go of all that with my p-doc. I think I had reached such a deep bottom that I latched onto him as someone safe, in whom I could confide. So I told him things about my f***ed up life that I had never told anyone before. He was so kind and supportive and attentive. It felt like having a loving parent, something I never had had.
What a wonderful experience you have had with him. Something many people never get to experience. I hope you can take that gift and wrap it away no matter what happens to your therapist. He's not going to reject you, it seems like. So if he ever "leaves" it won't be his choice. Of course, I know how hard that is to do in practice.
I tell my therapist (and he does believe me) that I'm like a duckling. He was the person I saw when I hatched and he's really and truly imprinted on my brain as "mommy". I could (possibly) have other therapists. But I couldn't have another mommy.
> I don't know. I don't know what to do with all this emotion I have for him. I am grateful for his boundaries in a way. If he were less careful about this, I would have destroyed my life and marraige for him. But sometimes I find those boundaries so painful. I want him to need me. I want to take care of him. I want him to love me.
> He says he does not love me in the same way I love him. That he does not need me in the same way I need him. He asks, what would that be like if I did? How could this work? And I get his point, but I can't seem to accept this fully.Perhaps his boundaries need to be a bit looser about self disclosure. If you could see your therapist as I see mine, it might be easier for you to accept what you have with him. It might hurt less that you don't have more. My therapist is far better as a parent within the office than he is out. That's likely pretty common. (Sorry, therapist's kids.) I really do think that on some level my therapist's actions are geared to helping me see him as a real person. He always has had a knack for doing what needs to be done at the moment.
But I wonder if I'll lose the capacity for magic in the process.
Posted by emmanuel98 on January 10, 2012, at 18:05:53
In reply to Re: Bad title » emmanuel98, posted by Dinah on January 10, 2012, at 9:10:01
> Perhaps his boundaries need to be a bit looser about self disclosure. If you could see your therapist as I see mine, it might be easier for you to accept what you have with him. It might hurt less that you don't have more.
He is careful with self-disclosure, although once in a while he will be chatty. He says if I knew him better, there would be things I didn't like about him. But I actually don't think that's true. I think I would like him a lot. I mean, I know he is different in real life than he is with me, but he couldn't be that different, or he wouldn't feel genuine. Also, one of the things he told me early on was that he has no children, just an autistic nephew who he helped raise. He talks sometimes, very lovingly, about his nephew. I ask periodically because his nephew is the same age as my daughter.
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