the equation

sigh…

i did it. i actually did it. i disclosed my infatuation with my therapist to my therapist.

she seemed unaffected by it. unfazed. what i felt as profound embarrassment, she saw as “transference” which she said was very normal. i said i did not know that much about transference beyond what I saw on TV, like in The Sopranos or In Treatment, but i did not think those dramatic scenarios would ever apply to me because that kind of transference is such a cliché, which might be the one thing i probably am not. because i am not the transference kind. or, i don’t do transference. at least not very well.

actually, let me take that back. i am totally the transference kind. everything i see, think, do or feel is a transference. i can’t think of anything that is not transferable.

i told her that this was very uncomfortable for me because i could only imagine how uncomfortable she must be because if i were in her shoes, i would feel very uncomfortable. To which she responded, “well what if one of your students admitted something similar to you?” i could not fathom that ever happening, since i do not really teach.

but it is true that in those instances where a friend reveals an infatuation with me which is not at all mutual, i feel very uncomfortable being around that person. Of course, I maintain the friendship, but from a distance, maybe in more subtle ways. Because self-consciousness creeps in… I become almost vigilant in not giving off anything that might be read by that friend as a sign of hope for my change of heart.

and that is the only lens, the only framework i have for imagining, speculating how my therapist must feel.

finally, she said “we only have 2 minutes left tonight. what will you do after this?” i said i would probably grab dinner somewhere.

It turns out she was not being literal. She simply wanted me to tell her how I would feel when the session ended.

Shamed? Humiliated? Scorned? Disgraced beyond redemption? The object of ridicule for every LCSW in the metropolitan area?

As i was putting on my coat while walking out the door, i added, “i guess i’d like to make sure that i am not making you uncomfortable.”

“So it sounds like you’d like my reassurance?,” she asked.

“i guess so.”

but she would not offer any reassurance because i think her job is to help me understand me, which means taking herself out of the equation. now i just have to figure out a way to take myself out of the equation too.

About The Lost Pedestrian

In my wanderings throughout the moments/days/years, I try in earnest to find the mystical within the mundane and the mundane within the mystical, oftentimes confusing one from the other. I have wandered and roamed through many a city, many a town, in a state of wonder and bewilderment, without necessarily going anywhere. I am easily lost, but eventually found. (I am guessing you have just found me). My sincere hope is that you will find Something in this warehouse of thought, memory and false memory, words, numbers, tangents, murmurs, echoes (lots and lots of echoes), voices, dreams, and other paraphernalia.
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