5 Years of Therapy – Has it Been Worth It?
Yesterday in a moment of anger, frustration, and a perceived lack of control I had this thought:
A few weeks ago, in therapy, I was telling my therapist (T) about how frustrated I was that a lost relationship kept coming back up in my mind. About how I found myself at times – rarely, but maddeningly – obsessing over this person. I was obsessed about what I wanted to say to her. And about how I wished things didn’t have to be like they are (no relationship and no communication at all).
I have discussed and analyzed this relationship in discussions with my T before. Through discussions and processing this, I’ve realized there are a number of characteristics about her and how she does things that are hooks for the younger part of me; she does and says things that remind me of my own mom, for example. So… sometimes I find myself mentally thinking about her because that wonderful, loving, kind 8-year-old boy inside of me puts his idealism and needs in front of me and makes me think I can fix any relationship and maybe in the process… he can finally get his maternal needs met. I mean from his perspective, surely… things don’t have to be like they are? Do they?
In my discussions with my T, I have discussed this relationship with respect to my 8-year-old self, and also in relation to me as an adult. Without realizing it though, I never related things to my teenage self at all in these conversations with my T. As I eventually circled back with my T about this relationship recently, she finally got around to the teenage angle through a somewhat general question. She asked me, “So… are you attracted to her? Are you attracted to this woman?”
I answered by not answering at first. I told my T that I hadn’t even thought about my own possible attraction to this woman, or her possible attraction to me, until last July when she was acting in a way that made me think later, “Ummm… was she flirting with me?” At the time, I followed up that question by asking myself, “And if she was flirting with you, how do you feel about that?” Honest answer? It felt good. But… true to how I’ve been my whole life I almost immediately put up walls to keep me from going any further thinking about it. These walls seem noble in their intent and usually come in the form of self-talk:
And so, I put this question out of mind.
That is, until my T asked me, “So… are you attracted to her?” I eventually got around to telling my therapist – yes, if I’m honest with myself I have felt attracted to her.
My T was actually happy about the fact that I had and entertained such feelings. She said, “Within the context of integration of yourself and growing up those younger parts of you, this is a forward step.” She has said before, and I know, that when I was a young teenager, I was so confused about sex and sexuality that I did whatever I could to try and shut down sexual inclinations inside of myself.
Obviously, over the years I have developed the sexual part of myself to a large degree (I am married and have two daughters) – but there are always lots of constraints I put on myself that get in the way of deeper intimacy – especially deeper sexual intimacy. Sex and intimacy rarely feel carefree. A couple years ago I shared something with my T in terms of the narrowness of my sexual expression with my wife and she told me I was sexually repressed. Ugh. That’s not something a man wants to hear. She actually said it to me twice in that conversation which pissed me off and hurt at the time. We discussed this the next week and moved past it.
So, back to my conversation with my T… on the way home from my T session where we talked about this friend and whether I found myself attracted to her, I thought to myself, “This particular conversation with my T is not something I should share with my wife.” After being married for 27 years, my wife and I know each other’s wounded spots. And I knew there was nothing good that would come from me sharing this particular discussion I had with my therapist. It wouldn’t help my wife or us to talk about it.
On Thanksgiving Day, my wife and daughters and I drove four hours to my sister’s house for the day. We left at 6:00 am to maximize our time with my sister and her family, knowing we had to get our older daughter back that night so she could catch her flight with her boyfriend on Friday. At one point my wife asked if I wanted to take a walk. I said, “Sure.” So, we left the house and walked through my sister’s neighborhood.
We had good conversation. I really enjoy those moments talking with my wife. But… for some reason during that walk… illogically, I decided to share about the conversation I had with my therapist. I told her my T asked if I was attracted to this woman, and I told her my response.
My wife usually is okay at those moments. It’s later when things hit her – after she’s had time to think about them for a while. I naively left the conversation and thought we had a good, open conversation without any fallout after all. But that didn’t last. A week later we were on our way to my company holiday party, and we ended up having a very hard conversation and, of course, this came up. Stupid man!
Last week I talked to my therapist about having shared our conversation with my wife on Thanksgiving. After a while, my T said to me, “What I am really interested in understanding is why you told her? You said you knew it wasn’t a good idea and wouldn’t be helpful to her. So, why did you do it?” Ugh. I told her I hadn’t really let myself ask that question, so I didn’t have any answers. In that moment with my T, though, I had a chance to really think about it while she patiently waited. I was quiet long enough that she started throwing out some possibilities at me. But nothing she said resonated with me as the answer to, “… why did you do it? Why did you tell your wife?”
The things that happen inside me in those moments in therapy don’t happen anywhere else or with anyone else. When I quietly ponder questions during a T session like the question she asked, here is what usually happens:
That particular day, I got both a word that repeated and a picture that entered my mind and stuck. As I went through the last step above (step 4), I started shaking my head sideways at my therapist. “Are you fucking kidding me? Really!? That’s why I told my wife? What… the… fuck. That’s messed up!” It actually upset me enough that I was in tears about it, and my T had to talk me back down so I could say more. Because I still hadn’t told my T an actual answer – I had only shouted my disbelief and made exclamations
Finally, I told her…. “I kept hearing the word, ‘safety.’ Over and over. I told my wife about my attraction to this woman friend to keep me safe.”
When I told my best friend this, he thought like most people might that I meant I was being transparent with my wife in order to have some adult accountability about this attraction. But that wasn’t what was going on. Because the image I saw in my mind was of me running to my wife for safety… and my feelings in that picture were those of a scared 8-year-old boy. That was the kind of safety I was seeking – safety for an 8-year-old boy who has every reason to be afraid of sex and attraction. It was not about adult accountability.
Here is more explanation: because the teenage part of me and the adult part of me had considered opening up to the idea that this woman was attractive and desirable, I was teetering on the edge of putting down some of the walls that I’ve always held up that keep me from sexual freedom and expression. The 8-year-old part of me got really scared about this idea because he believes that adults pursuing sexual needs and desires is bad. He’s the kid who lived through most of the sexual abuse his father perpetrated. He is also the one who was told by his father that his father did those bad things, “Because I have needs!” That boy knows that nothing good comes from adults and sex. Instead, what comes from adults and sex is betrayal, pain, loss, and horrific grief. But because my wife has proven to be trustworthy and loving to him… he decided to run to her while we were talking a walk on Thanksgiving Day so he could tell her what my teen and adult selves were up to. He pretty much tattled on us – to keep himself safe. I honestly couldn’t believe that was what was going on inside of me.
I had a therapy hangover that day, and I almost never do. I was baffled that that kind of dynamic could be operating inside of me – under the surface without my conscious thought or awareness. In July I felt a similar way about the fact that I had finally discovered that grief and grief avoidance have driven a lot of my behaviors and feelings my whole life. It was hard for me not to feel anger, shame (that this was going on inside of me) and helplessness and that’s what this therapy hangover felt like.
This… is what led me to speak the question that I quoted at the start of this post. I was so angry, ashamed, and helpless (not in control) that I honestly wondered if maybe it would have been better if I had left those younger parts of me (that 3.5-year-old boy, that 8-year-old boy, and that 13-year-old boy) and all of their emotions locked up and suppressed for my whole life. Because… am I really better off now than before? It didn’t feel like it in that moment.
But I quickly reminded myself that those younger parts of me, those needs, and those emotions that I worked hard to lock away tightly – they were never really locked away. They always leaked out, and they usually leaked out in much more destructive ways than doing something like talking to my wife about an attraction to another woman when I probably shouldn’t have. In fact, I can sincerely say that most of those old destructive consequences of my “locked-up” CSA are gone after five years of therapy.
The younger parts of me are no longer locked up
That 3.5-year-old boy, that 8-year-old boy, and that 13-year-old boy are free now. And they have finally been seen, they have finally been heard, and they have finally been loved like they always longed for and deserved. Sure – sometimes they still manifest their needs in ways that aren’t the greatest (like that 8-year-old boy telling my wife something he shouldn’t have so that he could feel safe), but that’s what kids do, isn’t it? Those young parts of me still need help growing up.
At 56 years old, I am still growing up. And I have hope for continued change. What’s more… I have the ability and freedom to pursue those changes. And I had none of those things before.
In conclusion, let me go back to that statement at the start of this post…. Here’s my response: “Yes, it’s been worth it! It’s not been easy. But it’s definitely been worth it!”
“It would have been better to just keep all of this shit, and all of these younger parts of me locked up!”
A few weeks ago, in therapy, I was telling my therapist (T) about how frustrated I was that a lost relationship kept coming back up in my mind. About how I found myself at times – rarely, but maddeningly – obsessing over this person. I was obsessed about what I wanted to say to her. And about how I wished things didn’t have to be like they are (no relationship and no communication at all).
I have discussed and analyzed this relationship in discussions with my T before. Through discussions and processing this, I’ve realized there are a number of characteristics about her and how she does things that are hooks for the younger part of me; she does and says things that remind me of my own mom, for example. So… sometimes I find myself mentally thinking about her because that wonderful, loving, kind 8-year-old boy inside of me puts his idealism and needs in front of me and makes me think I can fix any relationship and maybe in the process… he can finally get his maternal needs met. I mean from his perspective, surely… things don’t have to be like they are? Do they?
In my discussions with my T, I have discussed this relationship with respect to my 8-year-old self, and also in relation to me as an adult. Without realizing it though, I never related things to my teenage self at all in these conversations with my T. As I eventually circled back with my T about this relationship recently, she finally got around to the teenage angle through a somewhat general question. She asked me, “So… are you attracted to her? Are you attracted to this woman?”
I answered by not answering at first. I told my T that I hadn’t even thought about my own possible attraction to this woman, or her possible attraction to me, until last July when she was acting in a way that made me think later, “Ummm… was she flirting with me?” At the time, I followed up that question by asking myself, “And if she was flirting with you, how do you feel about that?” Honest answer? It felt good. But… true to how I’ve been my whole life I almost immediately put up walls to keep me from going any further thinking about it. These walls seem noble in their intent and usually come in the form of self-talk:
“Hey - even if I was interested in her, I would never do anything about it. I love my wife too much. I love my family too much. And I would never want to do anything to cause pain to or to blow up someone else’s family.”
And so, I put this question out of mind.
That is, until my T asked me, “So… are you attracted to her?” I eventually got around to telling my therapist – yes, if I’m honest with myself I have felt attracted to her.
My T was actually happy about the fact that I had and entertained such feelings. She said, “Within the context of integration of yourself and growing up those younger parts of you, this is a forward step.” She has said before, and I know, that when I was a young teenager, I was so confused about sex and sexuality that I did whatever I could to try and shut down sexual inclinations inside of myself.
Obviously, over the years I have developed the sexual part of myself to a large degree (I am married and have two daughters) – but there are always lots of constraints I put on myself that get in the way of deeper intimacy – especially deeper sexual intimacy. Sex and intimacy rarely feel carefree. A couple years ago I shared something with my T in terms of the narrowness of my sexual expression with my wife and she told me I was sexually repressed. Ugh. That’s not something a man wants to hear. She actually said it to me twice in that conversation which pissed me off and hurt at the time. We discussed this the next week and moved past it.
So, back to my conversation with my T… on the way home from my T session where we talked about this friend and whether I found myself attracted to her, I thought to myself, “This particular conversation with my T is not something I should share with my wife.” After being married for 27 years, my wife and I know each other’s wounded spots. And I knew there was nothing good that would come from me sharing this particular discussion I had with my therapist. It wouldn’t help my wife or us to talk about it.
On Thanksgiving Day, my wife and daughters and I drove four hours to my sister’s house for the day. We left at 6:00 am to maximize our time with my sister and her family, knowing we had to get our older daughter back that night so she could catch her flight with her boyfriend on Friday. At one point my wife asked if I wanted to take a walk. I said, “Sure.” So, we left the house and walked through my sister’s neighborhood.
We had good conversation. I really enjoy those moments talking with my wife. But… for some reason during that walk… illogically, I decided to share about the conversation I had with my therapist. I told her my T asked if I was attracted to this woman, and I told her my response.
My wife usually is okay at those moments. It’s later when things hit her – after she’s had time to think about them for a while. I naively left the conversation and thought we had a good, open conversation without any fallout after all. But that didn’t last. A week later we were on our way to my company holiday party, and we ended up having a very hard conversation and, of course, this came up. Stupid man!
Last week I talked to my therapist about having shared our conversation with my wife on Thanksgiving. After a while, my T said to me, “What I am really interested in understanding is why you told her? You said you knew it wasn’t a good idea and wouldn’t be helpful to her. So, why did you do it?” Ugh. I told her I hadn’t really let myself ask that question, so I didn’t have any answers. In that moment with my T, though, I had a chance to really think about it while she patiently waited. I was quiet long enough that she started throwing out some possibilities at me. But nothing she said resonated with me as the answer to, “… why did you do it? Why did you tell your wife?”
The things that happen inside me in those moments in therapy don’t happen anywhere else or with anyone else. When I quietly ponder questions during a T session like the question she asked, here is what usually happens:
- I sit quietly and listen to my feelings, my thoughts (in the form of words), and my visual thoughts (pictures that enter my mind). I also decide that I’m willing to be open – to whatever happens and to whatever answer that comes to me
- Sometimes a word will pop into my mind over and over
- Sometimes a picture will fill my mind visually and stay there
- Almost immediately after getting a word and / or a picture, I start asking myself questions – like, “Okay. Well, what does that mean? Why is that picture in my head?” And once I ask, it’s like literal puzzle pieces fall from the sky right into place and I start connecting those pieces into the answer. If the puzzle resonates with me after it’s put together – I trust the answer. Sometimes however… the answer is shocking even when it does resonate with me
That particular day, I got both a word that repeated and a picture that entered my mind and stuck. As I went through the last step above (step 4), I started shaking my head sideways at my therapist. “Are you fucking kidding me? Really!? That’s why I told my wife? What… the… fuck. That’s messed up!” It actually upset me enough that I was in tears about it, and my T had to talk me back down so I could say more. Because I still hadn’t told my T an actual answer – I had only shouted my disbelief and made exclamations
Finally, I told her…. “I kept hearing the word, ‘safety.’ Over and over. I told my wife about my attraction to this woman friend to keep me safe.”
When I told my best friend this, he thought like most people might that I meant I was being transparent with my wife in order to have some adult accountability about this attraction. But that wasn’t what was going on. Because the image I saw in my mind was of me running to my wife for safety… and my feelings in that picture were those of a scared 8-year-old boy. That was the kind of safety I was seeking – safety for an 8-year-old boy who has every reason to be afraid of sex and attraction. It was not about adult accountability.
Here is more explanation: because the teenage part of me and the adult part of me had considered opening up to the idea that this woman was attractive and desirable, I was teetering on the edge of putting down some of the walls that I’ve always held up that keep me from sexual freedom and expression. The 8-year-old part of me got really scared about this idea because he believes that adults pursuing sexual needs and desires is bad. He’s the kid who lived through most of the sexual abuse his father perpetrated. He is also the one who was told by his father that his father did those bad things, “Because I have needs!” That boy knows that nothing good comes from adults and sex. Instead, what comes from adults and sex is betrayal, pain, loss, and horrific grief. But because my wife has proven to be trustworthy and loving to him… he decided to run to her while we were talking a walk on Thanksgiving Day so he could tell her what my teen and adult selves were up to. He pretty much tattled on us – to keep himself safe. I honestly couldn’t believe that was what was going on inside of me.
I had a therapy hangover that day, and I almost never do. I was baffled that that kind of dynamic could be operating inside of me – under the surface without my conscious thought or awareness. In July I felt a similar way about the fact that I had finally discovered that grief and grief avoidance have driven a lot of my behaviors and feelings my whole life. It was hard for me not to feel anger, shame (that this was going on inside of me) and helplessness and that’s what this therapy hangover felt like.
This… is what led me to speak the question that I quoted at the start of this post. I was so angry, ashamed, and helpless (not in control) that I honestly wondered if maybe it would have been better if I had left those younger parts of me (that 3.5-year-old boy, that 8-year-old boy, and that 13-year-old boy) and all of their emotions locked up and suppressed for my whole life. Because… am I really better off now than before? It didn’t feel like it in that moment.
But I quickly reminded myself that those younger parts of me, those needs, and those emotions that I worked hard to lock away tightly – they were never really locked away. They always leaked out, and they usually leaked out in much more destructive ways than doing something like talking to my wife about an attraction to another woman when I probably shouldn’t have. In fact, I can sincerely say that most of those old destructive consequences of my “locked-up” CSA are gone after five years of therapy.
The younger parts of me are no longer locked up
At 56 years old, I am still growing up. And I have hope for continued change. What’s more… I have the ability and freedom to pursue those changes. And I had none of those things before.
In conclusion, let me go back to that statement at the start of this post…. Here’s my response: “Yes, it’s been worth it! It’s not been easy. But it’s definitely been worth it!”
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