He WAS trying to hurt me….

by irenedavid

Have been thinking a lot about our last visit with the “fiasco” therapist.  He said he didn’t mean to hurt me in the fiasco session.  But this past Thursday, he also said he had done the verbal version of a throat punch because he was tired of the way I was talking to him.  Have you ever known someone to do a throat punch when they didn’t intend to hurt another?  I haven’t.

He also insinuates that my girls don’t really love me or have forgiven me because he wouldn’t have if he were my kid.  I’ve talked to my girls about this and he’s wrong.  I’m not saying that they don’t still have hurts from my past behaviour, but I believe they have been honest with me and they are never anything but loving and kind to me when I see them.  Maybe my daughters are more mature than my fiasco therapist.

I don’t, for a minute, think that he has it all together.  Just because he has a Master’s in counseling doesn’t mean he’s scraped all the crap off his own shoes, and it seems possible that he doesn’t deal well with someone who challenges him.

I am trying to decide if I should write him a letter and not go see him anymore, but I’m sure he would chalk that up to me being borderline.  My original therapist has encouraged me not to make it appear that I have stopped my therapy with fiasco out of anger.

This is incredibly sad to me.  Fiasco helped me, my husband and us together a lot.  But I think he has some flaws that will hamper his ability to help us much more.

On another note, I have sort of crashed today.  I’m tired of so many things and I don’t see them changing anytime soon.  I don’t know what God is doing.  Today, I wonder if He’s real.

I lost 25 pounds last summer after the arrest, but I don’t have the money to buy any new clothes so I walk around in pants that I can pull down without unzipping.  I know it’s stupid, but that is incredibly depressing to me.  I don’t think I will ever get to the point where I can sing karaoke, which is the bravest I could ever be in public when it comes to singing.  My courage for singing was stolen over 45 years ago and that’s one of the main barriers to forgiving my siblings.  I love music and singing, and have a memory for song lyrics that is phenomenal.  Silly? Maybe; but that is an incredibly deep wound.

Blessings

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