I’ve thought a thousand things today. Said a hundred. And then I sat.
I drove home tonight listening to My Sweet Lord, my personal anthem for the past few weeks. Hands at ten and two. Through the familiar dark streets, green light, green light, green light. At least I’m pretty sure they were all green. I feel myself hovering outside of myself, like I was watching the opening scene of a movie. Well one that’s actually quite boring I didn’t slide off of the road or come to a screeching halt. Just observing how incredibly blank that I was.
And then just this: Tough love.
I realized that this is what my therapist is referring to when he leans back in his seat and matter of fact-ly says, “Well sure given your history”, and, “Let’s not forget your history”. We spent three hours on said history, and tonight it all came crashing down in two words.
A week ago I made a visual representation of my sexual “blueprint”. I pinned it to the wall. I’ve been looking at it seeing if anything new comes up.
A couple of things did, one of them is this idea that we (women) seek out our fathers. In the broader sense that we seek to recreate our early attachment relationships. So what does that mean for a girl who never had a dad? Does it mean that we seek out our mothers?
In that case. I have sought out ambivalent attachment and a whopping dose of tough love. Mission accomplished.
For two hours tonight I tried to find words to put to what do you want?. I realized that I don’t have any idea. I want comfort I think. Security. But all of this is a big maybe. What is obvious, tactile, is that I want instability and that’s what I find every single time. First I make this very elaborate bed and now I lie. The rest isn’t great let me tell ya.