Mom is working this week so I had to go to therapy by myself yesterday.
You know how Dr. B has a way of calmly letting bombs off in sessions about things I had no idea I had? When he so casually spoke of my disassociative disorder? Or the way he spoke of mom's obsessive compulsive personality? Well, a couple of things "blew up" yesterday too.
First off I was in the middle of a major anxiety attack and felt like it could go the way of a panic attack at any minute. He tried to talk me through it and asked me why I keep my thoughts of sissy away, at arms length, all the time. I started to tear up so of course I buckled down, not realizing until later that my hands had turned into clenched fists, physically fighting away the urge to cry. I couldn't keep the tears from spilling over so I just stopped talking, waited for the compulsion of my body wanting to curl up into a fetal position in a way that it physically tries to protect my heart, wiped away my tears and promptly changed the subject.
Dr. B and I talked some more and he gently steered the conversation back to sissy.
"I'm trying to dance around the subject" I admitted to him.
He laughed and said "I know you are, I'm trying to bring you back to it!"
We continued to talk about my avoidance, blah blah blah and he blathered on "........and that's contributing to your PTSD..........."
Wait. WHAT? Whoa, back that truck up.
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder?
As in I have PTSD?
It never, EVER entered my mind that I could have PTSD and Dr. B says it as if we had had a conversation about it.
Then, while I'm reeling from this diagnosis he REALLY let loose on me.
"Your anxiety keeps building up and it's finding physical ways to release itself. It's like a fart, it has to find an escape."
Reallly? A FART???? He couldn't have used a better metaphor for my anxiety? He's a world renowned psychotherapist. He's written more than five books. We've used volcano, a door being held shut, a tea kettle, a million other descriptions for how my anxiety builds up and he uses a FART???? I suddenly felt like a certain 8 year old boy (Asa) trying to stifle a giggle. Combine that with the visual running through my mind of Dr. B walking through his house farting and I lost all concentration with the session after that.
But much like the fart he so flippantly spoke of my anxiety did let go a little bit after I walked out of his office.
I guess he's not just full of hot air.......coming out of his ass.