The Transferrance Thing
As I ponder going back, yet again, to therapy, I have been thinking more and more about what I need, and what I seriously do not in any way, shape or form need. When I first started going to therapy years ago, I was cautioned about not getting into the transference thing--as in not falling in love with my therapist. But in my case, I didn't fully understand, until now anyway, that that reverse transference--when the therapist falls in love with you--can happen.
It happened, several times, to me.
Recently, I got rid of a therapist coach--and as I was ending things, I noticed something very odd. It was the way she was speaking to me about ending the relationship. It sounded to me like a lot of language about saving me. It didn't feel right. Like she'd gotten too much into my stuff, and was trying in some way to sway me to stay.
Like she needed me more than I needed her.
Granted, she could turn it around and say that it was me, that I have a relationship issue and must certainly have a problem with women getting close to me.
I've heard that before. And it's not true.
The very first therapist I saw, when I was in my first marriage and going crazy because I hadn't counted on people treating me like I was going nowhere, tried to convince me that I was probably a lesbian. Why else would I want to run away from a marriage? why else was I having some of the strange images I was having? Well, as I've learned, there were lots of reasons for those images, none of which had to do with being a lesbian. What I figured out was this particular therapist's need to convince me of her way of thinking--some need for me to be like her (she was a lesbian) rather than helping me to find me.
The second therapist I had, whom I was with for many years, one day got so mad at me and, pleadingly, asked why I could not consider her my mother. I told her I had a mother, that it wasn't about replacing one mother with another, but that I was hoping to have a better or different relationship with my mother. Still, she got upset with me that I would not call her "mom" and became enraged, even threatened, when I decided I'd had enough and ended the relationship.
Transference is a weird thing. As I said, we clients are told not to get too involved with our therapists. Even pop culture conspires against us with movies that portray the stalker client. Few ever portray, or say anything about, the therapist who crosses the line.
I always thought that female therapists would be less inclined to get into the transference thing with me. But, oddly, that hasn't been the case...there's more...
The therapist I saw when I was at college kept insisting that the reason I didn't return home to my husband was, not that he wasn't a good match for me, was that I was probably struggling with my sexuality--yes, once again, that I was a lesbian. She was a lesbian (again!) and had counselled several other women my age who were coming out of the closet at school.
Coming out of the closet wasn't my problem. I was never in a closet to begin with!
I've wondered about this whole lesbian thing with some therapists. Frankly, I've never been interested in women. And after 4 years with Lucky Bastard, I figured out that I'd really been with too many men who lacked erotic imagination and didn't want to play in the bedroom. Or at least didn't want to play the way I wanted to play....
And those "games" I wanted to play have more to do with power and trust than they do with one's sexuality. I figured that one out, too, without the help of therapy--which really doesn't understand the complexities of human sexuality as much as it believes itself to understand.
Actually, the only places that understand human sexuality are some very, very dark places one should never go without having a tether to the world of light.....
I had another therapist for a number of years who kept me going in circles. Never moved anything forward. Just circles, chasing chimeras of child abuse. Some were true, others weren't. It was maddeningly destructive and I believe that it may have contributed to the demise of my last marriage....
I've had maybe three good therapists in my life--three that didn't get into the transference thing. Two guys, one young woman. They took me as far as I could go, and then there wasn't any further to go with them. I've had to spend time on my own, get to a point like where I am now, where I'm unable to make big changes that I need to make.
If I am to go back to therapy now, it's not about going over the past--it's really about figuring out how to ground me so that I can move forward into the future. I didn't plan to be where I am now--single, with a guy who won't commit (hence my leaving him) and with only my father down in NJ. Sure, there are things I really *can't* help--like a lot of the craziness of my mom's family, my dad not having family, and some others I can't think of at the moment. But there are other things that I can control, things that I can take action on that will impact and change my life in positive ways....
And I may need a therapist--but not one who's going to fall in love with me....certainly not some woman who gets weird ideas about who I am in her life, when all I'm supposed to be is a client.
Transference is so strange though. I think I was aware of it years ago--at least I'd read about it--but I never believed it could happen in my case. That's probably why I didn't see it early and clearly. Now, though, as I saw in the case of the therapist coach, I caught it before it got too far.
I understand, too, why I'm at this place, where I need to make big changes and I'm scared so shitless that it's pushing me into anxiety some days, depression other days. I've sat still here in W. Mass long enough for me to catch up with me. Running away--whether out of a relationship or a change of location--means starting over. It means re-building things. It means having a similar level of discomfort I've had before in other big changes. But those big changes aren't changes that reflect forward movement in one's life. They're just do-over types of changes. Settling down--or, staying in one place--means things like getting credit, establishing a household, getting rid of junk, making connections with people that one might have for more than a few years at a time, being part of a community. Being part of something rather than just an island unto oneself. Now, this does not mean that one can't be an island even if one has lived in one place for the bulk of one's adult life. My parents were like that, for their reasons, as are many other people. But that's not me. I figured out that, whether I go back to New Jersey or not, I still have to have community and connections here, and that I can port those connections with me even if I move away for work or whatever. That even if I join a church here, it's the foundation for joining a church again wherever I go.
Basically, I'm rejecting a way of life I was brought up to have, and desire to move towards a life that I feel I should have--a life that I feel is possible, if I allow myself to say "yes, I want that life" and if I have enough support to help me walk through the fear that comes up every time I've been at the threshold of this kind of life...
you see, I've been here before. I was here years ago with my young husband--on the threshold of a life different from both our parents or our siblings. And I got afraid. So afraid I ran away. I was here with the boyfriend that I lived with--and, when confronted with the idea of being "just a housewife" started on a destructive path that got me involved with some violent characters and ended my relationship. I was here, in some part, with my last husband--and the fear gripped me again. But I couldn't say it. I couldn't tell him because he had his own fears and between the two of us, that much fear was overwhelming. I was at this threshold when I graduated college, and slammed the door on it, partly out of fear, partly out of so much self-loathing that I spent the last seven years or so keeping me locked up in a prison of under-achievement....
People can't really understand the under-achievement. Then again, they've never had the fear I've had, never felt there was no support for the new life, never felt so drained and confused and overwhelmed.
But they don't really need to understand it. I need to understand it, and to know it, because it's only me who can get over, under, around it. Not them. Recognizing what fear feels like (viscerally--it hurts) understanding what love is, understanding how and when transference happens--those are real, and important, and that awareness is what will help me move on from this point into a life that I should have.
Which certainly isn't the life I'm living now....
It happened, several times, to me.
Recently, I got rid of a therapist coach--and as I was ending things, I noticed something very odd. It was the way she was speaking to me about ending the relationship. It sounded to me like a lot of language about saving me. It didn't feel right. Like she'd gotten too much into my stuff, and was trying in some way to sway me to stay.
Like she needed me more than I needed her.
Granted, she could turn it around and say that it was me, that I have a relationship issue and must certainly have a problem with women getting close to me.
I've heard that before. And it's not true.
The very first therapist I saw, when I was in my first marriage and going crazy because I hadn't counted on people treating me like I was going nowhere, tried to convince me that I was probably a lesbian. Why else would I want to run away from a marriage? why else was I having some of the strange images I was having? Well, as I've learned, there were lots of reasons for those images, none of which had to do with being a lesbian. What I figured out was this particular therapist's need to convince me of her way of thinking--some need for me to be like her (she was a lesbian) rather than helping me to find me.
The second therapist I had, whom I was with for many years, one day got so mad at me and, pleadingly, asked why I could not consider her my mother. I told her I had a mother, that it wasn't about replacing one mother with another, but that I was hoping to have a better or different relationship with my mother. Still, she got upset with me that I would not call her "mom" and became enraged, even threatened, when I decided I'd had enough and ended the relationship.
Transference is a weird thing. As I said, we clients are told not to get too involved with our therapists. Even pop culture conspires against us with movies that portray the stalker client. Few ever portray, or say anything about, the therapist who crosses the line.
I always thought that female therapists would be less inclined to get into the transference thing with me. But, oddly, that hasn't been the case...there's more...
The therapist I saw when I was at college kept insisting that the reason I didn't return home to my husband was, not that he wasn't a good match for me, was that I was probably struggling with my sexuality--yes, once again, that I was a lesbian. She was a lesbian (again!) and had counselled several other women my age who were coming out of the closet at school.
Coming out of the closet wasn't my problem. I was never in a closet to begin with!
I've wondered about this whole lesbian thing with some therapists. Frankly, I've never been interested in women. And after 4 years with Lucky Bastard, I figured out that I'd really been with too many men who lacked erotic imagination and didn't want to play in the bedroom. Or at least didn't want to play the way I wanted to play....
And those "games" I wanted to play have more to do with power and trust than they do with one's sexuality. I figured that one out, too, without the help of therapy--which really doesn't understand the complexities of human sexuality as much as it believes itself to understand.
Actually, the only places that understand human sexuality are some very, very dark places one should never go without having a tether to the world of light.....
I had another therapist for a number of years who kept me going in circles. Never moved anything forward. Just circles, chasing chimeras of child abuse. Some were true, others weren't. It was maddeningly destructive and I believe that it may have contributed to the demise of my last marriage....
I've had maybe three good therapists in my life--three that didn't get into the transference thing. Two guys, one young woman. They took me as far as I could go, and then there wasn't any further to go with them. I've had to spend time on my own, get to a point like where I am now, where I'm unable to make big changes that I need to make.
If I am to go back to therapy now, it's not about going over the past--it's really about figuring out how to ground me so that I can move forward into the future. I didn't plan to be where I am now--single, with a guy who won't commit (hence my leaving him) and with only my father down in NJ. Sure, there are things I really *can't* help--like a lot of the craziness of my mom's family, my dad not having family, and some others I can't think of at the moment. But there are other things that I can control, things that I can take action on that will impact and change my life in positive ways....
And I may need a therapist--but not one who's going to fall in love with me....certainly not some woman who gets weird ideas about who I am in her life, when all I'm supposed to be is a client.
Transference is so strange though. I think I was aware of it years ago--at least I'd read about it--but I never believed it could happen in my case. That's probably why I didn't see it early and clearly. Now, though, as I saw in the case of the therapist coach, I caught it before it got too far.
I understand, too, why I'm at this place, where I need to make big changes and I'm scared so shitless that it's pushing me into anxiety some days, depression other days. I've sat still here in W. Mass long enough for me to catch up with me. Running away--whether out of a relationship or a change of location--means starting over. It means re-building things. It means having a similar level of discomfort I've had before in other big changes. But those big changes aren't changes that reflect forward movement in one's life. They're just do-over types of changes. Settling down--or, staying in one place--means things like getting credit, establishing a household, getting rid of junk, making connections with people that one might have for more than a few years at a time, being part of a community. Being part of something rather than just an island unto oneself. Now, this does not mean that one can't be an island even if one has lived in one place for the bulk of one's adult life. My parents were like that, for their reasons, as are many other people. But that's not me. I figured out that, whether I go back to New Jersey or not, I still have to have community and connections here, and that I can port those connections with me even if I move away for work or whatever. That even if I join a church here, it's the foundation for joining a church again wherever I go.
Basically, I'm rejecting a way of life I was brought up to have, and desire to move towards a life that I feel I should have--a life that I feel is possible, if I allow myself to say "yes, I want that life" and if I have enough support to help me walk through the fear that comes up every time I've been at the threshold of this kind of life...
you see, I've been here before. I was here years ago with my young husband--on the threshold of a life different from both our parents or our siblings. And I got afraid. So afraid I ran away. I was here with the boyfriend that I lived with--and, when confronted with the idea of being "just a housewife" started on a destructive path that got me involved with some violent characters and ended my relationship. I was here, in some part, with my last husband--and the fear gripped me again. But I couldn't say it. I couldn't tell him because he had his own fears and between the two of us, that much fear was overwhelming. I was at this threshold when I graduated college, and slammed the door on it, partly out of fear, partly out of so much self-loathing that I spent the last seven years or so keeping me locked up in a prison of under-achievement....
People can't really understand the under-achievement. Then again, they've never had the fear I've had, never felt there was no support for the new life, never felt so drained and confused and overwhelmed.
But they don't really need to understand it. I need to understand it, and to know it, because it's only me who can get over, under, around it. Not them. Recognizing what fear feels like (viscerally--it hurts) understanding what love is, understanding how and when transference happens--those are real, and important, and that awareness is what will help me move on from this point into a life that I should have.
Which certainly isn't the life I'm living now....
posted by Tish Grier at 7:53 AM
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