no news from the couch.

What’s new… I had a down last week, and I hope it was not because Doc had a holiday…

I mean, I know it wasn’t, coz today, during the session, while listening to my own blah I remembered that those highs and lows are a natural (? I think so, yea) swing of the pendulum.
There has been change in my life, and I need to adjust. I am getting more entangled in normality than I am used to, and I think I am still overestimating everyone else’s proficiency and underestimating my own.
Oh well, the last thing is something Doc said. He does say something, sometimes. <|8)

Anyway. It’s ok to learn from those who know better, but it’s not ok to think and feel like a child among grown ups.

Specially as I am the 2nd oldest of the team.

SIGH.

Well, nothing else will help me but going on and getting used to normality, and to experience my can dos and can’t dos (and won’t dos and want to and am going to dos <|8) ).

Speaking of feeling like a child…
I tried the look-into-the-eye-thing again, and failed again, and heh, this time he rubbed my back!
That was so clearly a fatherly gesture that it does make me happy, but somewhat kills my crush.

Very good.

<|8)

Now, that was amazing.

I felt I didn’t have much to tell me Doc, last week and this Monday. I am very happy to know he’ll be there every week when I start with my new job; but here&now I’m quite fine.

Argh! What to tell him this Monday?
Coz, y’know, patients on the couch must offer some entertainment to their doc, neh?

Probably not.

But. Y’know.

What I wanted was a dream. Way back in May, when he introduced the couch, he said I could bring dreams, too. But I haven’t remebered one measly dream for a long time.

Inspired by a good friend’s online dream journal with an excellent instruction to lucid dreaming, I decided to have a lucid dream when i went to bed Sunday night.
I also asked Hermes, bringer of dreams, for help. <|8)

Hehe, and it worked. I woke up at half past 5 in the morning, fell asleep again and had 3 short lucid dreams, like a dream triptych.

Thing is, I didn’t ‘get’ those dreams, until I told them to Doc. He didn’t say much, just asked a question, and then things fell into place.

So: thanks, Hermes Psychopompos and thanks, Doc Psychoanalist! <|8)
Oh, and thanks Vetch, for dreaming and being perceptive. <|8)

another exciting episode…

1. I got a feeling that my therapist… doesn’t love me any more! WAIIIL!
Ah, this shall cheer me up:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BmVyUpsUDnE
_{(Oh how I love the nose shot! Among many other things.)}

2. He’s on vacation AGAIN! Only next week though.

3. He told me to clear up and clean my room. Awww. ‘kay, dad.

I need something sparkling to offer him when he’s back. A weird dream, or sumsuch.

After 3 weeks of vacation Doc is back. Finally. He didn’t say much, coz I had to fill him in about what has happened during those 3 weeks, which was LOADS of stuff.

I can tell he was very pleased with me. And, y’know… sigh…

And this was our latest amazing episode of News From The Couch! Next week, same channel: Will Vetch finally have anything interesting to tell? Is transference really healthy? Stay tuned for the next episode of News From The Couch!

The Lord of the Couch is still on vacation, untill the 24th.

I really need him back. I have been good with the transference, I think I can handle it well, it’s not acute at all
instead I did another job shadowing and I fell in love with a beautiful client!
ARRRRGH! DOC!!! HEEEELP!

edit: Just for the record: the client looks just like I like ‘em but rarely, oh so rarely meet ‘em, so I could not help but swoon when I saw him.
But clients are utterly and totally and absolutely off limits, and I don’t even think about anything untoward. No, not even think. I have had my share of the client-type in my wild youth (no one as beautiful, though. Sigh.), and I know there is nothing to think about.

Megosh, is there anybody out there, who is not my therapist, and not a client either?!?

SIGH.

3 weeks! Oh arrrrgh!

WAIIIIL!

He was soooo nice today, and he really likes me, and so I really like him.

Oh well. I shall use that time to let the endorphin subside. I mean, c’mon, Vetch, you’re falling in love with your dear ole therapist?!? Gah! <|8p

without a decent transference. And me gosh, Doc is, dunno, 60? But he got angry with me for the very first time, scolding me when we were talking about relationships for me, me explaining that I am determined to find my love even though I am fat and ugly-
and then Doc got angry and stern.
Says he doesn’t wanna hear that ever agin, and I don’t have a model figure, and must do something about my strabismus (squint-eying… there’s no decent English word for “schielen”), but I wasn’t ugly at all, and such a warm hearted, amiable person, and a guy who looks only at perfect beauty doesn’t have the mental maturity as me etc.pp.

Well… as I am actually typing and posting this I am not so sure about my mental maturity. And of course he’s doing his job, I am not totally retarded, neh?

But it’s nice anyhow. <|8)

Now I gotta find a man to love who is not my therapist.

I love the couch. It’s comfortable, and I can put my hands on my belly, on the regions where it aches when I tell stuff. I notice when I start to get tense and can relax easily.
Yea, couch is cool.

Doc is cool, too. 3 weeks ago I missed my appointment, coz my bike was broken, and I totally plain forgot about that. Ride to Doc’s is 10 minutes, and 15 minutes before the date I left my flat to find – no bike! Bike is at the garage, waiting for repair!

ARRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!!!

No bus going there, no money for a taxi, walking would take too long. So I call him and tell his answering machine that I’m not coming.
I felt so depressed, I really wanted to go, poor lill stupid chaotic unorganised Vetch, totally typical!
Sigh. I had invited Sarge, God of Arsemoving, for cleaning my flat, so perhaps his influence was at work, too. Instead of couching I cleaned my flat and wrote some job applications which were overdue.

But I was very worried, coz when you miss a session you gotta pay it out of your own pocket. And I take it that a shrink session is not cheap…
BUT
next session he said, nah, regarding my financial situation he is not charging me (I’m sure he’ll get the money from the health insurance, though). Oh phew!

Couch Hair.

On my way to Doc I didn’t giggle any more. I was quite down (have been doing a lot this weekend, but none of the things I am supposed to do). And analysis! I don’t need to talk for 45 minutes with doc saying “aha” and “soso” and then go home. I need help!

And then, me on the couch, Doc didn’t say “aha” once but interrupted my blah several times. Said sensible things. Was helpful.
We have agreed that he’ll act as my super ego for now. <|8) Yöh! I got a super ego!

Next week is a brake, he on vacation, me doing job shadowing (that the word?!?) at a low-threshold facility for a week.

Today – after only 4 sessions, eh? Oh well.
Today we decided if we want to go on. We also discussed job issues. I now have a bubble of laughter in my belly, as well as some bitter tears.

The tears are about my profession. It’s nothing new really, but having a Dr. med. psych. say it… makes it really real, y’know. He says I should forget about ‘my profession’ and get a job to earn me enough money to get along.
And yea, he is right. I don’t have any education, apart from occupational therapy, a field in which I definitely won’t get along.
And I think what a waste, I’m smart, I am talented—but not enough. Not determined enough, not ambitious and hardworking enough, not knowing what I wanna do…
And I think of my parents, both journalists, travelled the world, met amazing people, earned a lot of money. I can write as well as my Mum can, and better than my Däd.
And, ah yea, I forgot again: I am 41.

Oh well. I will weep some more, and then I’ll see that I find a job for money. Perhaps in a call centre.

What amuses me to no end is that he showed me the couch—I’ve never noticed it before, but yea, there IS a couch! And he explained in many words why such a setting is helpful, and blah, and I felt that bubble of laughter burst in my belly.
I say “Are you doing psychoanalysis then?”*
Yep.
OMG!
Heh, when I typed the job stuff above I was weeping, and now I am giggling. I may bring dreams, too.
We’re going for 25 sessions, then we’ll decide if we do, what, 2 years?
I am not sure if this will help me in any way, but 25 sessions is enough time to find out. I am absolutely sure I wanna do this. Somehow it makes me giggle, dunno why. Perhaps a childhood dream coming true… A true analysis. Omegods! <|8P <|XD