Your Freudian Slip is Showing

Therapy. The word evokes images of bad horror movies where the ghosts of abused asylum inmates haunt the living with their screams. Thoughts of horrible 70's sofas with strange men in glasses asking "So how does that make you feel?" and scribbling in their little notebooks tumble through my head. Counseling has come a long way since the days of Sigmund Freud, but no matter how much we've learned about the inner workings of the human brain I'm still not sure that anyone completely understands what's going on in there. For instance, why does my heart feel like I'm having a heart attack when I experience the feeling of losing someone? The heart is just a muscular organ that pushes blood around my body. Theoretically it should have nothing to do with what's happening in my brain. Maybe it hurts because I think it's supposed to hurt. My brain can't process the emotional pain so it channels it where I think I should be feeling physical pain and I have the sensation that someone has their hand in my chest squeezing my little heart to a pulp. Do you think anyone has ever actually died of a broken heart?

 Being in this counseling thing, I find myself continually saying "My therapist says I should...." which usually leaves me deep in thought. Like this last week my therapist said I should put myself out there and have my friends set me up on dates. During the session I'm thinking "ok sure I'll try that..." then when I get home I'm having a panic attack about having to start over again and explain all the crap in my life, like fibromyalgia, hypothyroid, sleep apnea, plus a myriad of emotional issues that stem from childhood. I don't want to start over. I don't want to explain that crap. I sure as hell don't want to start over getting to know someone when 90% of the time people don't present themselves honestly anyway. When we're starting a new relationship, we always want to present ourselves in the best light, even if we're aware of our issues, which a lot of people aren't. No one wants to be talking with a potential partner and say "Yeah I'm pretty selfish in a relationship and I'm high maintenance because I'm insecure and will need you to constantly reassure me ok?" Or how about "Sure I'm out here dating, but really I'm still carrying a torch for my ex, so I'll be leaving you the second she renews her interest in me. You good with that?" Riiiiight. Next! So instead we talk about what we wish we were, or what we would like to want eventually but aren't quite ready for at the moment, which is very confusing when trying to determine if this person might be a potential partner.

 Through all this I have discovered one thing. I have baggage. Lots and lots of baggage. Some of it is old and beat up and held together with duct tape. ( "The handyman's secret weapon!"* ) Some of it is brand spanking new with all the bells and whistles and rolly wheely handle things. Some of it is in tiny little packages that fit inside other bags, that also fit inside other bags like those little Russian stacking dolls. Some of it is huge like the Grinch's sack he plans to dump on Mount Crumpit. There are bags with infinite amounts of mysterious objects in them, like Mary Poppin's carpet bag. All of it adds up to one giant pile of crap that I carry around in my head every day. I've got baggage about my parents. I've got baggage about past relationships. I've got baggage about my self worth. What I really need is someone with "baggage that goes with mine."*

© Sarah Ultis 2011

*From The Red Green Show. Hilarious! YouTube it today. This moment I say!


*From the musical "Rent"