Just drink the Kool-aid

Today’s session with the shrink was rough.  Nothing fun about sitting and  have them stare at you while you try to cough up your feelings that are too painful and shameful to utter aloud.  So instead you put on a good personae and artfully try to dodge the elephant sitting on your heart that you wish you had the balls to say, but your too much of a pussy to.  For if you do, you can risk looking like an asshole or worse getting hurt.

It took me awhile to get the courage up to spit out what I was hemming and hawing about saying for 40 minutes.  Nearly the entire session.

It has taken me weeks to get to the point of even mustering that up.  The emotions carry that much shame for me to say.

The thing I said well, it makes me feel weak, embarrassed, vulnerable, powerless.   All feelings I HATE.  All feelings I don’t have skills to tolerate very well.

But I did finally spit it out, because I want to get well and I think that puking up what’s hard to do, will get me there.


I guess I’m blindsided by her response.

She was like, “no, you don’t really feel that way do you?” and she kinda laughed.

Then I felt humiliated on top of the existing shame…..  Mother fucker.   I wanted to crawl into the nearest hole and die.

She has no fucking idea.   And that’s largely my fault.  For the better of thirty fucking years I have learned to “present well,” so that no one knows what’s really going on.

I do it so well, I can mostly turn it off and on like a light switch…..mostly.


Sitting there in that chair in her office feeling ashamed, it flooded my brain with similar events that I tried to bury a long time ago.

Especially the young, impish, fractured, splintered off part of myself I thought I could seal behind a wall and bury alive.

But that girl’s muffled voice broke through from behind the bricks today choking back her pitiful fucking tears.


There she is again, from behind the woman veneer.

Stirring somewhere from latent consciousness.

Crystallized….and I’m still paralyzed.

I seem to walk through life, reflexively, a continuous loop of internal thought patterns,“I am bad.  unliked,  unwanted,  unaccepted….. I am un-lovable.”


When I told my shrink how I felt about her, she replied that I must be wrong……  It stung.   Walls went up.

Usually, I reject me before anyone else can hurt me.    Well, I fucked up.


I am ashamed….of me.

I am realizing that shame is a bigger part of my emotional make-up than I ever knew. It’s inescapable presence envelops me like a blanket.

If I don’t deal with “it”, I will continue to live in misery.

Before today’s session I might have passed for an average girl, walking with a seeming look of purpose, unfettered by any stress. And in some ways, I guess that would have been true.

I left however, restricting my gaze downward to the cobblestone street, tears staining my cheeks, reflecting the ugliness I still hold inside.

Ugliness from which I haven’t been yet able to wriggle free.


BDSM and bondage isn’t always about rope and submission.

The riskiest scenes take place on the inside, with the chains that bind our very soul.

4 responses to “Just drink the Kool-aid

  1. I feel like such a new age hippy weirdo talking about “inner child” work, but that’s what I’ve been doing lately. In meditation, I envision my self around age 4 or 5. I talk to her, tell her I love her, tell her I will protect her and keep her safe, stuff like that. It’s been amazingly helpful.


    • I told my shrink that my “inner child” or whatever the fuck is in me, has a lot of power over me, like really bonded with her.
      Actually I didn’t have the balls. I pussied out and told her I felt like I thouught maybe I needed a priest for an exorcism to release the young
      girl living inside me. (humor is one of my better defense mechanisms dont cha know)

      I did manage to tell her that sometimes it feels like dog years in between visits with her because she’s like the first person
      (since my last long-term therapist) that part of me bonded with, oh sorry….had efffective “transference” with, and therefore trusts.
      and because unlike the men I act out with I dont have to suck her dick, rim her ass, or perform weird sex acts to get her to like me.
      I told her honestly that she has a lot of power over me. She really reaches a part of the core part of me. Has power over me. Maybe she didn’t get it.

      Because she was laughing and was all like “no, I don’t, I don’t have that kind of power, I only see you for 15 minutes a week”

      yeah…. okay….. ouch.

      dude, to that part of me she is like the mother I never fucking had and shit. how fucking embarrassing is that to the chronologically aged me!
      I seriously had contemplated ending therapy a few weeks ago over this becuase I wanted to kill this piece of me off somehow once and for all.
      or just leave therapy because I am afraid my shrink will leave.

      but right…. no, I just say this for fuck’s sake that she has this power, this influence in my life. okay.

      sweet Jesus call the Emotional Embassy, if she didn’t hate me before, she sure does now….

      I wish I could just kill my inner child. it’s just wreaking havoc. she has to fucking GO!

      gLAD to hear that you found a way to lover yours and do the Kumbaya shit. I can’t seem to get there. My shrink doesn’t believe
      I even have and inner child. I think she thinks I make it up or some shit. Maybe I don’t “look” Sybil enough? *shrugs*


      • I am shocked your therapist laughed and and said you aren’t feeling what you are feeling. When I was in therapy it got to the point I wouldn’t do anything without running it by my therapist. When he told me I didn’t need to see as often I literally went into panic mode. He had to wee me off and I talked to him on the phone between visits.

        I think it is very common to bond with your therapist after all you are revealing your deepest darker feelings to them; stuff you’ve probably never revealed before.

        She doesn’t sound very professional to me. We all have an inner child and I am certainly no psychologist but I know that if someone tells me they feel a certain way I am not going to argue whether they feel it or not. I think the person who screwed up there is the therapist.

        I am so sorry you allowed yourself to be vulnerable and she let you down.

        (((((((((((Hugs))))))))))) Lexi


      • Carrie, she DID apologize after.

        The thing is, it’s like you can’t unring the bell. par example:

        Prosecution: Ladies and gentlemen of the jury. The man on that witness stand up against murder one charges was indeed also a philandering low-life while his wife battled cancer was out cavorting with teenage girls


        Judge: Sustained.

        Can the jury get that knowledge out of their head? you tell me.
        How quickly can I purge that my shrink doesn’t really believe me that she means all that much to me out of my head?
        or moreover that she doesn’t even believe that I have some splintered off piece of myself stuck back in 1978 even though
        I am over 30.

        Fuck me. After she apologized, the girl in me, “don’t worry, people hurt me all the time, I get used to it.”

        but I lied.

        thanks for the hug Carrie ((((hug))))


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