Sunday, September 9, 2012

on trust and CT

When CT decided to suddenly end therapy with me, she said she was doing it for my best interest.  I don't know if that's what she really felt or if there were other reasons she just didn't want to tell me, but how she ended it was not at all in my best interest.

As a little girl I always felt unsafe, that any minute my home and the people that I cared about would suddenly disappear.  And I felt this way because my home and the people I cared about DID suddenly disappear often.  42 times too often.  As a result, trust and feeling safe have become nearly impossible for me.  Any amount of trust feels like a huge scary leap for me.  And I do mean ANY amount.  Even the smallest things most people don't have to think about are hard for me.  Like making plans with someone.  That's hard for me because I distrust that they will actually follow through with those plans.  I distrust their motives behind these plans.  So the plan becomes a bigger event for me than the other person because of the level of difficulty it takes for me to trust in absolutely anything.  Does this friend really want to go to dinner or do they just feel sorry for me?  Is this friend going to flake on me?  What will happen at dinner?  What if they get tired of me at dinner?  A simple plan to get dinner with a friend provokes intense fear and anxiety in me.  I don't trust what people say.  I don't trust that people care about me.  I don't trust that people won't hurt me.  I have come to expect them to hurt me and am always worried about it.  THAT is how hard it is for me to trust anyone.  I can't even make plans with friends without intense anxiety that they will abandon me.  It's fucking obnoxious!

When I finally felt comfortable and safe in a home and with my new care takers as a little girl in foster care, I would be moved.  And it would devastate me.  So it was even harder in the next home, which made it harder in the next home, and so on.  I became a soldier, on constant watch for the impending attack.  I push people away because I'm scared they are going to leave me.  I push people away because my feelings scare me.  I don't want to care about people and I don't want to feel cared about by people.  Well, no, I do want those things, but the soldier in me is always on guard.

Every single caretaker I ever had abandoned me as a child.  Every single one.  Imagine your mother or father giving you away because they couldn't or didn't want to take care of you.  Now imagine the next mother or father doing the same thing, and the next, and then the next, and then the next, etc...  There must be something wrong with me.  Why else couldn't anyone care for me?  Why else would I have to move so often?  Well else would I be dumped by everyone I ever loved?  I am desperate for love, but I can't trust anyone and I hate myself for being such a fuck up.  I ruin absolutely everything in my life.  EVERYTHING.

Therapy isn't all that different for me.  A therapist is a caretaker in a way.  People go to a therapist for help.  People show their therapists things they don't show other people.  They are very vulnerable with a therapist.  They need to be able to trust their therapists.  Therapy was a very very difficult thing for me.  It still is.  I always felt like cancelling or just not showing up, but I didn't.  I don't think I ever once missed an appointment with CT in two and a half years.  I went even when it felt impossible to go.  CT and I didn't have the smoothest relationship, but that actually helped me trust her more.  When she didn't dump me after our first struggle, I felt a little bit safer.  Eventually I felt safe with CT.  I felt attached to CT.  I trusted CT.  So when CT suddenly decided that she couldn't or wouldn't see me anymore, it hurts just as much as when my foster parents sent me away.  I feel stupid for trusting her.  I feel stupid for caring about her.  I feel stupid for believing that she cared about me.  She gave my immense fear of abandonment a feast.  People have told me that she was "just" my therapist.  That's true, but the word "just" is really unfair.  She's the first person I let myself be vulnerable with, and on a regular basis.  She was the first person I could expect to see regularly.  The first person I could rely on to always be there.  She was the first person I told my secrets to.  She was the only person I trusted with the must vulnerable and scary parts of me.  The parts I don't let people see because I'm afraid they will run away.  And after years of work just to feel safe, she ran away.  She said she couldn't take care of me anymore.  She abandoned that little girl inside me at a treatment center, just like so many before her.  

Not even a therapist will stick around in my life.  What's wrong with me???