Standing On A Chair

Telling it like I see it…

Rants from the Chair: On What Happens When You Marry Your Shrink – Part 6

I was morphing into a “new Jill.”  I threw myself into my personal growth, leaving Marcus staring in wide-eyed wonder, half  proud, half pissed.  He was used to being the center of my universe.  Now, work, therapy and night classes were my new priorities.  I felt empowered.  I felt confident. 

And while Marcus continued with his individual therapy with Andrew, so did I.

My therapy appeared to be progressing beyond the “transference phase,” thank God. In one session I talked about my dream of having a husband and a baby girl.  This led to me facing the fact that I definitely had to leave Marcus.  The love of my life for the past four years did not want anymore children.  He’d had two already, with different baby-mommas.  That’s the problem with being in a relationship with an “older man.”  He was thirty-three, and already had way too much baggage.  And for that matter, Marcus had no interest in getting married again either, having been divorced twice. 

So what in the flying fuck was I doing with him?  I guess it was the age-old fantasy that you can change a man’s mind.  But even if you were to find a way to do that, what then?  He gives you what you want under duress and then hates your guts for it later? 

Reichian exercises seemed amazingly helpful.  Andrew had a little room off to the side which was completely padded for sound-proofing.  There was a hospital bed and a metal chair next to it.  As the patient, you lie on your back while the therapist manipulates certain areas of your neck, forehead, and abdomen.  When pressed in these places, an involuntary cry, or even a scream comes out, releasing whatever you’ve been repressing since birth.  Another exercise I liked was the tennis racket release, where you use the racket to beat the shit out of a mattress, screaming with each hard blow. 

I used to leave those sessions feeling like a cooked spaghetti noodle, and also feeling almost lighter than air, refreshed and clean, oddly unburdened.

Then one day, in a session, everything changed. 

Andrew looked at me in a strange, different way and said, “I’m afraid I have fallen in love with you, Jill.”

I sat in stunned silence, blood pulsing, heart banging.

Stay Tuned for Part 7


August 9, 2011 - Posted by | Psychotherapy | , , , , , , , , ,

No comments yet.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: