un-love letters

My therapist had a suggestion for what I could do with some of these feelings that seem to threaten to drown me at times.  She suggested I write Mr. X two letters (not to send, of course)—one to tell him about the things that I missed about him, and one to tell him about how angry I am.

The angry letter is still waiting to be written.  I think I need to get a strong visual of Mr. X in a powerless state (maybe bound and gagged?) before I can write it.  I even have a hard time telling him off in my mind.  His voice is still so strong in me, that I know what his responses would be, and well, I never was able to win an argument with him.  Apparently I can’t even win one in my imagination.

So the angry letter will have to come another day.  It will come, though, as I have not been able to forget about it.  It won’t leave me alone.  It’s been quite persistent, so I may need to write it just to get it off my back.

The “miss you” letter, though, I was able to write.  I wrote about two pages of “I miss this that and the other.”  I noticed that before I had written a full page, the things I was missing seemed to be tainted.  Mixed up in the memories was a sour taste.  Sure, I miss going on walks with X, but I remember quite a few walks where he took the opportunity to tear me down, one city block at a time.  Sure, I miss remembering things with him, but I do not miss the subjects he would throw back in my face, sometimes “joking,” sometimes not.  I wrote that I miss hearing him tell me I’m beautiful, I’m sexy, but I can’t think about that without remembering the time he told me he wasn’t attracted to me.  When we were in bed, naked.  And then he held it over my head that I couldn’t just forgive and forget.  There are very few pure memories, if any.

I ended up with two pages of “I miss” and six pages of “I do not miss.”

I don’t miss the belittling.

I don’t miss the discounting of my feelings.

I don’t miss how selfish a lover he was.

I don’t miss his moods and unpredictability.

I don’t miss the constant worrying about his precious feelings, about his fragile state of mind.

I don’t miss his neediness.

I don’t miss how I always seemed to be to blame for his unhappiness.

I don’t miss being afraid of his anger.

I don’t miss hiding from everyone what an asshole he could be to me.

The things I miss come in bits and pieces.  They are the little things, the details.

The things I don’t miss are made of wholecloth.  They are the foundation, the walls, the roof.

in brief (with more to come later)

The therapy session was good.  I think we found our winner of the “who wants to help QD shuffle through her crazy?” contest.  I’ll have to think of a good nickname for her.  Too bad Jendeis already has dibs on the best therapist nickname ever (Fairy Godmother, if you didn’t know).

Job interview tomorrow.  Not nervous yet.  I’m sure that will change.  I’m sure I’ll find out by the end of the week if I got it or not , as they are feeling really antsy to get someone started quickly.  To recap: we will be happy if either I or my co-worker get the job (thereby making the other person’s job secure).  Not so happy if neither of us gets it.

Now is the time to chillax (in the parlance of our times) and not be productive.

That is all.

well, THAT was a disappointment (updated)

The therapist I tried out today was not a good fit.  She seemed like a nice enough person, but didn’t really seem to “get” me: she asked mostly the wrong questions, needed a lot of clarification (more than I’ve had to give ANYBODY when telling my story), and she wasn’t very warm.  Basically, there was no chemistry.  It felt hard to have a conversation with her, and not in the “it’s therapy and you talk about difficult stuff” way, more in the “what do I say next?” way.

Onward and upward.  I’ll be trying therapists that come with recommendations now.  Good thing I know several people in therapy, huh?

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UPDATE:  I just got a call about that other job and I have an interview next Tuesday, the 19th.