May 11

 Last day of therapy.

No major theme. I asked what the plan was. As it was their plan. No specific plan. Uh huh. Sure. I get it.

So. They talked a little about themselves.

They re-iterated. With more feeling. They were very sad that we were ending. They would miss me.

Why ? I asked in genuine incredulity. 

They searched around. Because you are interesting. You are an interesting person. You are interesting to talk to.

I sat with that. This sits on the fault line of one of my failings. Inability to process, feel, accept any kind of positive value called against me. I can. See. What they mean in theory. But. It doesn't land. The bit that sticks. Is still the why. Why. Like the answer given doesn't exist. No but really. Why. But there are few answers that would stop me asking that question. Because it's not about the meaning. It's about my failure to equate it properly. So the why isn't a question in the end, it's just an expression of incapability to accept a positive frame on me.

Hmm.

Regardless. The communication of feeling was clearer. It mattered. I mattered. The end mattered. Not a one and done. Not a win some lose some.

Hmm.

I noted that last week they didn't seem entirely happy. A ripple of unhappiness there. Keep it in perspective. It wasn't a major deal. Not the end of the world. But nevertheless. A ripple there. An unhappiness in their initial statement that they were ok. We talked about that. I had stepped back for once and taken a look at what I do a little. In the simplest of examples. When someone says something.

In their case.

You invariably say you are ok I said. Most people do. Very common. The words are the same. But. The intent is often not. The words become meaningless. It is not the words I am listening to. It's a hundred other things.

It is the pause. Where the pause is. That speaks volumes. A conscious pause before answering communicates difficulty. A martialling of the statement - overcoming something to get out a neutral statement. Not clear waters. A pause in the middle. Hard to stomach the word ok. And on. And on. The pace of it. The thoughtfulness after.

And then the tone. With energy and pep, I am ok ! Versus flat. I am ok. A dip down in tone. A dip up in tone. A wobble. Screamingly loud. A flat I am ok is so ridiculously different to a peppy one.

And then there is the facial expression. The micro flashes. The wince. The grimace. The flicker of joy. The scrunching of eyes. The eyes that lock into the distance. Off. Up. Away. Hide.

And the body itself. Shifting. A rise in the shoulders - defensive. Crossing of arms. An uncomfortable fidget. A shifting to face away. A lean in. A lean away.

A million signals.

I said that people were conscious of their words. They thought about what they were communicating. But. Few people, no one, monitored the rest of it. The automatic bits. The sigh before the statement. The wince. The lean back. These are all unconsidered. And they communicate the inner state. Sometimes. Very clearly. And not unusually in direct opposition to the content in the words. I am ok. ( I am not ok ).

You are good I said. You are. Don't take offence. Controlled. But. You too leak. Your ok's differ. In tone. In pace.

The therapist agreed. We talked a little about it. I said it made sense. We communicate in other ways than language. Language is just a layer on top.

The therapist was a little unhappy and a little defensive last week.

They said the unhappy I picked up was to do with being sad about ending. But. They were not aware of being defensive. They did not feel under attack. They did not feel defensive.

Subtleties I said. I was talking about subtle things, not major defensiveness. And. You don't need to be attacked to be defensive at that level. There are other reasons. Awkwardness. Vulnerability.

The therapist said they weren't conscious of it. Could I have misread it ?

Sure. Possible. Anythings possible. But I didn't think so.

Sometimes I said. People emote things without it being fully conscious. The cognitive bit is like an overworked conductor. Not fully in control. Not fully aware. A host of automatic responses go on underneath until one of them rises the a threshold and the conductor picks it up. I said I have seen the ripples of emoting in people before they are conscious of it. Perhaps. It was that.

The therapist agreed that was a thing. Could be a thing.

I could be wrong. ( but, I am certain of what I was reading there. That wasn't an off read. )

I said there was a subtle thread in the therapist. The discontent. The defensiveness. Of someone. Off kilter. Again. Perspective. Nothing major. Not the end of the world. But there. Subtleties.

Moving on. I said I was going to read them one of my journal entries. The last one. I had been urged to do so. It had crossed my mind. But also not to. Because. Last session. Digging through something pretty deep in what should be an ending summary. But.

So I read them my last journal. Verbatim.

There is an irony there I said. That you get that at our last session.

The therapist said it was beautiful.

You think it's beautiful ?

Yes. You are articulate and you connect with emotion in a way that is relatable. The thing that connected with me was when you thought about it relating to your childhood. I can see that. It's genius. What you did there, position yourself outside of an unsafe environment, build your safety like that. Genius.

I didn't say anything. I nearly said it wasn't genius. Come on. But I let it stand.

You write beautifully. But it makes me wonder if you are stopping therapy because this has become dangerous. That too much of you is now in sight, this is dangerous, so you escape.

Heh. I smiled. I could see the tree they were barking up. But no. Entirely 100% utterly wrong. Not even just wrong. But wrong in the opposite direction of the truth. Polar opposites. I said so. I didn't run away from people understanding me. I wanted people to understand me. I wanted people to vibe with me. To have people like that. Someone like that. Would be bliss. Wonderful. I would become a houseplant and just sit with them forever. What I want is to sidle up to people like that and just sit in their energy. Not run away.

The therapist persisted. From therapy basics. People that have that kind of behaviour, thought pattern, are always like that. They run away and retreat.

Categorically no. Not me. I do not run. I seek that kind of contact.

But you say you distance yourself from the world. You retreat from people.

Yeah. That. "model" of the world. Sure. I don't buy into the standard pattern. The usual things. I can go visit people in the light. People cannot come visit me in the dark. It is I suppose just about finding your people. Not about retreating en masse. It's about isolation. Not because I am isolating. Pushing people away. Because that's just how it is.

Consider I always say that I am an open book. You can ask me any question. ANY. Question. And I will answer. There are no secrets. No forbidden things. I am not fearing someone getting to know me. In fact. If someone wants to engage with me like that. Rifle through the entire library. I am happy about that. Good. Great. Awesome.

The therapist let it go. But. It didn't jive with their learning. And so they doubted it. Even though it is as clear as the nose on your face. I am absolutely not that pattern. The opposite. I crave that kind of knowing connection. Peers. People. I get why the therapist clings to it. But they are making a basic error there. Distancing and rejection, doesnt mean distancing and rejection from everything. That is perfectly possible to do with distinctions. In fact. This is just life anyway ! Everyone makes distinctions. I like this. But not that. It's just that in me, it's more fundamental. Not a question of whether you like tomato sauce or not. But whether I like the core of human societal life, expectations, arbitrary value judgements. But again. This isn't exactly unknown. A lot of "alternative" kind of people fit off the mainstream.

Nevertheless the therapist struggled with it. Faceplanted.

I finished with this.

Listen. If you understood me entirely. Got me. Completely vibed with me. That would be amazing. I would want to come home with you. Not run away from you.

The therapist then took this as a massive condemnation.

I don't doubt there are times I have completely said the wrong thing. And that I don't understand you. Haven't reached you.

I tried interjecting - no, that's not what I meant. The therapist continued.

That sometimes I say things that are not helpful, things you have already considered, are the wrong context. That I struggle to understand what you say and where you are.

I tried interjecting again - no, I don't think that's really the case.

The therapist continued anyway. On a roll. Post therapy, I dark comedically referred to it as the therapist falling on their sword. Harakiri style. I let them continue.

I have tried to meet you. I am trying. I am trying to reach you.

The therapist was earnest. But. This wasn't a wound of my creating here. This was... a mix... of their insecurity and desire to help. Their like of me.

The therapist is human too. Lest we start to draw up the ifs buts and maybes of perfect execution. Which I think. This wanders into a bunch of very human things.

The therapist continued. Clearly. On a more emotional more exposed vibe. Just a sprinkling more honesty. More presence. Skating closer to that line perhaps. Or over it. A little.

They said they wanted the best things for me. To not be defeated. That in the end it would be good things. They struggled with the words.

I watched their body language. Screamingly loud. Sighs. Shifts. Emotion. Frustration at not finding the words. Restraint. Battling with expression. But no words. A wriggling loud form of sub vocal expression.

I smiled a little.

What the therapist asked.

Nothing. I am just listening to your body language. 

I don't think you should be defeated. That you should give up. Perhaps. Talk to someone else. Find different therapies. Art therapy. Or. Something with being present in the moment.

I didn't comment. Just watched.

A long pause of eye contact. No breaking. In the end I sighed and looked out of the window. Still no words.

I am going to ask you a terrible question I said.

Oh. Terrible ! Ok.

Do you want me to continue therapy ? And yes I know. It's about me. Not you. You don't have an opinion. You can't say. Boundaries. Blah. This is not the done thing.

Yes. I want you to continue. I respect your autonomy of decision that you want to stop. You can stop. That is your choice absolutely. Of any time frame. But I want you to continue. I think. Can still do useful things together.

Uh huh.

I wasn't sure the therapist would answer that question. Way too over the line. And if they did. I didn't really expect a categorical yes either. Clear. They hedged it to death. My choice. My autonomy. Politically correct. Defensible. But nevertheless. An opinion in there.

Three bits stood out to me by the end from the therapists point of view. Which is of course not what it's supposed to be about. But this is me. And I care.

They were very sad I was finishing. Not sad. Very sad. They would miss me. They wanted me to continue.

Extract the signal from the noise. From the defensive language. The correctness. The obfuscation.

If people are honest with me, open with me. I am very careful and soft with them. Understanding. And here the therapist was for perhaps the first time in a year, pretty clear with me about how they felt. Them. Not me.

Ok.

Something to consider. But I could feel my inclination already. I don't reject people like that. Never will.

I am inclined to keep going with therapy then I said.

We talked about it. The therapist re-iterated my autonomy. It was ok to stop. Did I want time to think about it. Yeah. Reflection would probably be good. But. Inclination was there.

So.

It was left open. Up to me. I can call it either way. Just let them know. But. Pencilled in. We will break for 2 weeks - holidays and the like. And then resume. And then at some point. We can reassess again. Stop. Or not. See where we are.

Afterwards. I am not entirely sure where I am with this.

The reasons for stopping are still there. Unchanged. But. I am also considering the therapist at this point. And yes. I know. That's not the point. But that's never not going to be the point for me. *Always* consider others. And it matters to me. But there is unresolved stuff in there. If you cut all the crap. The therapist has become attached to me. Not necessarily catastrophically. Not romantically. Not unprofessionally. Not even in a major way. Just. In the way that people do. It seems. I am not a negative in their life. I am a postive. Bewilderingly. Given the therapeutic environment. Not a burden. Or at least. My positives outweigh the negatives.

I thanked the therapist for telling me. What they did. Because implicitly I understood that was not a small thing. A mix of personal. And professional. A little more... skin... in the game.

But also.

Aside from all that.

At home. Hopelessness. Sadness.

I have spent more than a day writing this - I halted it halfway through. Today. The day after. The hopelessness and sadness is much worse. I don't know. The end seems more visceral. Thoughts of my end have marched through my head when I have dozed into a CFS state. Focused. Fixated. Finish it. Not good.

Ho hum.

We shall see where we get to. More days to endure. Get through. Noodle with. I don't understand the arc of it. The irony is I can explain it from quarks to lunch time suggestions. I can tell you how intelligence works. And emergence. And the human condition. And our place in the universe.

And I do not understand where I am. Or what I am doing. Or the point of me. Because it has ended. And yet here I still am. It is. A math error.

Everything else I understand.