The Black Box.

 Only one thing left to do now. To change the publish dates of these blogged words. And leave this blog. Or  do I carry on? To stay with it, learn more, to speak up for other clients who receive well meaning, lectures. Aversive, defensive in-humane... ending in Erasure. + But - there is only one choice from this moment onwards.. To live, to carry on. Because This happens to others too. + Yet in one layer of the multiverse I'm no longer here. In the other layer  I took all the sleeping pills and died  outside his door,  huddled cold on stone,  cold,  My heart finally stilled. No drama, just the truth of it.  -- These words were at are the end. (semi-psychotic visions - written the evening after the final session May 2022...) [+]

13th February 2024. I believe that what happened to me is too important to be ignored.  I also believe that technically speaking, this subject is too personal, and it should be confidential - and absolutely not put in a blog!  But this feeling of embarrassment, this feeling of  I shouldn't say it, is full of shame and guilt actually, but ultimately I have to ask myself, is my sense of shame and guilt, my silence doing any good?  Silence contributes to maintaining the problem - silence prevents things changing, silence - my silence - cuts off any possibility of learning how to make improvements.  Clearly I think that this information should be in the public domain, as much information as possible actually.  I wrote to Kit to open up dialogue. Recent emails. 13th February 2024. If there is emotion, something matters. I trust in the beauty and dignity in expressing need, and I see an innate value in communication. Making a request is about finding a way to meet needs. To ask is to ac

It has taken me almost two years to admit the obvious. I don't want to say that I'm a victim, but his reaction to my honesty was harmful - I was harmed. And it is a therapist's responsibility to know what is going on within his or herself, and not let it 'contaminate' sessions. There were times when he may have hinted that he guessed. But somehow he could never actually say it or ask me... How or why is that possible? It doesn't automatically indicate denial though - I had one supervisor who told me that 'the best therapist never needs to ask a question!' So the truth is, some therapists can believe things like this. I certainly do not agree with any such notion. I believe on the contrary  that asking a straight question demonstrates trust in oneself and the client! And if it had been me I hope I would have said "I feel there might be powerful forces here, and I'm not sure what is going on. But I'm wondering - are you in love with me"?

OK, this is hard - I need to dig deep. The pain of it is almost beyond my endurance, and yet at the same time I am above, observing, watching and recording. The pain is like wearing a dress made of nettles. And so I turn towards it, embrace it  and connect. Holding out my hand I ask into the empty air, 'what is your name? ' In the roiling blackness of the void I hear the words  'I am your intoxication'.  Gently I ask the pain, what do you need?  My hand touches something cold and rough, like shark's skin. And below me deep under an ocean of tears and a crimson gush of my heart's-blood, the words 'love and soul ' boil, radiant and poisonous as a nuclear flash. The sun turns blue, a 'vision' of Cherenkov light, 'the blue sun' I'd seen in my semi-psychotic state when I had left the therapy room for the last time. "love and soul..." Returning from inside to out, directing my vision to the keyboard, to the soft white light of th

3rd February 2024. I would never have believed how difficult it is to write a request to see my therapy notes, if I hadn't tried.  And failed. I just can't find the words. Yet. It should be done - it makes sense for me to do this. What gets in the way of just asking, is the second guessing, and the rich cocktail of emotions I'm almost knocked out by; a mixture of sadness, anger and futility. OK, I know it, I know what I'm doing, I'm second guessing how he will feel to read the request, and I don't want to be the catalyst that opens up those feelings. And sure, I'm second guessing that his reply - if he replies - will be to ask me why? I do not wish to answer that question.  Not because I have any need for secrecy, or feel that he shouldn't know why. But simply because it is over stepping the mark. He isn't my therapist, I'm not asking for therapy. I just want to get a 360 degree crash report.  So, if this were me, and a client asked me for my no

And so I find myself marooned - to stay with the plane crash metaphor. I've just watched Society of the Snow . And as in the film, as in the awful reality of those real events, action must be taken. There will be no rescue otherwise, no getting out.  So what action do I want to happen? In counselling, and between counsellors, what counts as resolution is usually an apology of about a thousand words. Those words need to convey to the injured other, a real understanding of the harm done, and a heartfelt regret. And how I manage to convey to Kit that this demonstration of awareness is appropriate and needed, I don't know.  Yet. Do I make a formal complaint? The first option is to get in contact with the therapist and explain that there is a problem, and ask for some kind of resolution to be worked out. If that isn't forthcoming, if the therapist doesn't acknowledge that there has been and still is a problem, then a complaint is justified. A therapist who hasn't receiv

26th January 2024. It is difficult to explain how powerless I still feel about this situation. I can't think for the life of me what empowered could mean. Again I'm struck by the uselessness of understanding . I understand the reasons for the crash. Worse, I also understand what I could have done right - that is a hard thing to deal with! I also understand the truth of the idea - that what I'm not changing I'm choosing - but empowered?  I can't get to an understanding of that at all! I simply don't have a clue. Right now I'm working on The Black-Box.   As close a thing to a real black box as I can imagine, putting the pages I wrote last year together. Does that make me feel empowered?  No. As Huberman said, "Anxiety makes children of us all" . And the number of times Kit explained to me how he would recognise and speak to the Child in his clients was a trope I always found hard to take. Not least because his responses to my emotional content, wer