nccotus

I had a PhD psychotherapist at age 21 to 22 who gave me a book to read about a young woman in psychoanalysis.

what a mix-up.

I’m still not over it.

over-reading was my issue.

this person did everything perfectly wrong. Steering into every curve.

somehow she knew that I needed to know about being a mother. And not to worry so much about my Harvard literary crowd pretentions.

I just realized the other day that being switched out of a voluntary to a mandatory leave of absence warranted such an experience. After all these years, my confusion in this regard finally lifted somewhat therein.

Sharon said, “Talk to me about your mother.” That felt so dangerous to me.

I had a situation I needed to resolve about Harvard and the undergraduate literary magazine that I had become “president” of. I needed an excuse. I had done some lousy things to people as I tried to make my way off of that year. I took a leave of absence but that wasn’t permitted. I had failed two out of three courses when I should have been taking four. I stayed just to finish out the term as “president” obviously. I was seriously burnt out and needed a rest, this was acknowledged by the University. I wasn’t required to work and the leave was only for one semester.

So, my situation was met with a situation. Sharon (the therapist), was a walking situation for me. A divorced Jewish mother with a Ph.D. In psychology acknowledge as just someone who cares. I needed someone skilled and trained to help. She used crass expressions that turned my stomach. I was coping with being deemed a “non-literary” Advocate president. Sharon asked me to name a favorite book and I named “The Little Princess.” So she named “The Princess Bride.” Neither of us cared for the other’s fave book. She shared the book “August” as described above and I launched into a fantasy world about being in psychoanalysis in my mind. It is kind of difficult to explain. It has been a long time.

next thing I knew I was back at Harvard on psych meds with wrist cuts in a real psychoanalyst’s office in Harvard Square. I stayed there in my mind for the rest of my life.

even today, even right now. I believe he is still living. What a beautiful, smart man. His name is Dr. Penn. I’m ditching all the rest. Letting it all go. What matters will come back to me shaken and pressed over in abundance and short order because of Jesus.

what a long, crazy mix-up what a long, crazy ride to hell and back.

shoulda met Alex in Boston.

otherwise idk