Wednesday, May 05, 2004

Dumb, Dumb, Dumb

Why are memories such a powerful thing? Or maybe the better question is why do I allow memories to sweep me away and continue to disturb/overwhelm me at times?

This period of time four years ago was so difficult for me. The therapist I had started seeing October 1999 was the first one I ever let in (really let in) and he announced to me January 2000 that he would be leaving and finishing up his doctoral externship someplace else. He knew it was possibility, but didn't know for sure, but we still had about five months until he would be leaving. So, for the next five months every session was torture because each one brought us one step closer to his HAWAII (Tripler Army Medical Center). Of course, it being an Army thing he has to serve like 4 years and he ended up in Tikrit and almost was blown up by a bomb 10 feet from where he was sitting is he hadn't have left when he did...but I think he is back in Alaska now.

Anyway, the closer May 17th came the more and more freaked I became, the more suicidal I became and the more I couldn't fathom being able to say goodbye and having it be like the 15th "loss" I had suffered in about a 18 months period of time...some of it was like Marc...people moving on, but some of the loss came in the form of death. No matter was fast becoming one too many. Looking back, Marc probaably crossed some boundaries. Not in a bad way and nothing that I didn't appreciate, but in his attempts to do some "re-parenting," he made it that much harder to say goodbye. It was little calls to check on me when things were a little rough (without me phoning first), coming in on a Saturday if we missed a regular appointment when he was out of town, etc. He spoiled me.

I was in the midst of my self inflicted 60 day starve-a-thon. As I have looked back I think I was hoping I could be dead before May 17th and I wouldn't have to say goodbye. By May 14, wasn't happening fast enough. It wasn't just kind of "happened." That year May 14th was Mother's Day. I got up, went to church, came home and called my mom and grandmother. I had forgotten to take my meds and so I decided to...after as nap. I took a nap, got up and the next thing I knew one pill became...well...more than one.

I called Marc and let him know and told him I don't think I really took enough to hurt me and I was going to sleep it off. I couldn't. I got on the computer and was IMing with a couple friends. I guess my typing became all "wonky" and my friend urged me to go to the ER. I did. I talked them out of admitting me. I came home to frantic messages from Marc. I tried to page him as he asked when I got home and he didn't call back. He didn't call back for the next TWO days. I think that really shows how our relationship wasn't your normal therapeutic relationship.

May 17th the guy I was seeing at the time drove me to the office and then was going to pick me up afterward. It was nice we were working together (at that time anyway) and he could do that. Marc and I talked through a little bit of what happened and I remember going over our time (came to find out he came in just for me...he was gone after I left) and then that was it. He said I could write to him after he had been gone 30 days.

There was a lot left unsaid and no closure because I couldn't handle to goodbye...especially one that dragged on for 5 months. It was easy to find him and while he waon't answer me...he doesn't care if I email him. So, I drop him a line about every 4-6 months...especially while he was in Iraq. I keep telling him if he wants to get rid of me he only has to answer a couple of questions he never got around to before he left. I guess he doesn't want to get rid of me because he never answers.

He told me that no one could not meet me and have their lives impacted (in a good way) and he was going to share how I had impacted his. It drives me nuts that he NEVER shared that. I also want to know what he was thinking in telling me about his leaving so far ahead of time.

This time of year always takes me back. Funny thing is, I really can't remember what he looks like...I can't quite remember what his voice sounds like...but I just remember "him." I think I am so stupid for feeling abandoned because I have such a wonderful therapist now and three months after coming home from remuda the first time...also had a great therapist.

I ended up writing him dozens and dozens of pages because the spokedn word failed me so much in those last months. It took me a few weeks to really put down what I was feeling about his leaving, it not being fair, etc. I told him that it was like I was in heart surgery...I am on the table and someone else can finish the job...but that person wasn't there for the first incision and didn't hold my heart in their hands.

I hate myself for still missing him and for the tears it brings thinking of him.

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