Don’t worry, kids. The story with the train station and the ticket will continue, either tomorrow or Saturday.

But today I got to blog. Because today’s therapy session did not go well and I need to vent about it.

Hmmm. Now where to start…..

Meh. Might as well cut straight to the chase. After the usual badminton game of me saying some things and then my therapist arguing with me over word choice before rambling off on some tangent while I patiently way for the next opportunity to express my actial emotions. we came to the point where I was expressing some really deep shit. And, miracle diablu, he was really listening.

This point, as always, came at the point where we were almost out of time. I am not sure why the really good stuff only comes out near the end of the session. Maybe it takes that long for me to truly lower my defenses, I dunno.

But if I ever work out how to skip the first part, therapy will get WAY better.

Anyhow, I was getting down to the nittiest of the gritties, it occurred to me that what I really wanted, deep down. was for someone to see how much pain I was in, and express some sympathy.

That’s what the scared lonely little boy inside me wants most of all. For someone to notice how scared and lonely and freaked out by the world he is, and say ‘you poor thing. You must be in a lot of pain. ‘

Because that’s what I never got as a kid, or ever, really. Sure, lots of people went on record as being sympathetic to me in theory.

But nobody has ever been willing to come to me where I am, down this deep dark hole, and see my pain and my suffering, and connect with it in some way.

I’ve always been locked in here all alone. Nobody has come even close to being willing to join me in my world, let alone make a real attempt at rescue.

And my therapist is no different, because when I told him that I needed someone to sympathize, the first words out of his goddamned mouth were ‘yourself. You’ll have to do that for yourself. ‘

He didn’t even pause before saying it. It was like an autonomic response.

And this struck me as being somewhat less than sympathetic.

So we got into an argument about it. And it soon became clear that in his mind, he was there to help me, yet that did not involve him expressing any sympathy toward me on any level whatsover.

I wanted to know why he was so against being sympathetic to me.

But then the session ended. Which is why I am still pissed off about it.

And the thing is, I know what really happened. He would probably never cop to this, but I know what was really going on.

Just like everyone else, he got to the edge of my abyss and it terrified him. Instinctively, he knew he might never escape a well that deep, and so he did what everyone else does, namely refuse to actually emotionally connect with me.

No wonder I have trust issues.

In that moment, I was opening up to him more than I had ever opened up to anyone ever before, and what did I get?

Rejection and abandonment, of course. I mean, what else is there in my life?

Think about it. What would have been so hard about saying he cared about my pain? Answer : he would have had to leave his emotionally constipated male therapist’s bubble and actually connect with me on an emotional level.

And people just do not want to go there. My pain scares the shit out of people. They afraid that if they even touch it, it will destroy them.

And who knows, they might be right.

But a therapist is supposed to be beyond that. They are healers and healers do whatever it takes to help the patient. They don’t reject their patients at their most vulnerable moment. They don’t refuse to connect to patients who need to connect with others more than anything else in the world.

So in my opinion, he failed me. Just like everyone else.  Sure, I can get surface sympathy. There are even people who truly and deeply care for me.

Up to a point.

But there is nobody who can and will survive the harsh conditions on my lonely little planet long enough to really connect with me.

I have been blaming myself for my inability to really connect with others for a long long time. I thought I was fundamentally broken somehow and that is why I was doomed to be be alone in here forever.

And that is still true, in a way. But now I can see how others have failed me, too.

Nobody is strong enough to handle me. And that’s been true all my life. I was hard to handle as a kid so people just ignored me. It never even occurred to them that I might be worth the effort. That there was a worthy person inside all that intelllect and emotional neediness and social maladjustment who just needed someone to hang in there with him and give him someone and something to hold onto amidst all the chaos and darkness in his mind.

But nobody thought I was worth it. I was too much work. Too difficult. Too needy. Too unpredictable. Too challenging.

So that’s it, I guess. I will be alone inside forever. I might be able to reach people’s hearts tghrough my writing but when it comes to connecting with others on a personal. emotional level, it’s just not going to happen.

People will always take one look over the precipice, say “Yikes!”, and scram.

And that fills me with pure cold hate. Hate for everything and everyone in this coldhearted shit hole of a world.

I’ve tried to let people in many, many times in my life.

And they have always said “Um NO.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.