my occasional musings on life, love, art, perfume ... what else is there?


Jaded Heart

Travels with my shrink ...

...The time I got mad at him for keeping me waiting and I put all his magazines, in alphabetical order, deep under the waiting room couch.

... I generously offered free criticism of his office artwork ... his haircut ... his tie ... his socks.

... I occasionally indulged in self-diagnosis, having got hold of a Merck manual and a copy of DSM-IV. I basically just needed his help with the Rx.

What I'm meditating about tonight, though, is the jade heart.

For seven years, D. was literally The Man in My Life. Never mind he was gay, absolutely out of bounds and otherwise different from me in every way.

In psychotherapy, there is a phenomenon called transference. When achieved, all emotion associated with various relationships is loaded onto your therapist ... and then you deal with conflicts associated with those love objects through him. In your mind, he becomes the one you fear, the one you hate, the one you resent, the one you love.

During this high emotion, you say and feel and imagine every possible facet of human behavior ... but you don't do things. For instance, you must not murder your stepfather and you must not give gifts to your psychiatrist.

Tangibility bothered D. The safe place for therapy to occur is in the abstract -- do whatever you want there, but don't bring it any closer to the real world where things get dangerous.

I broke that no-gift rule: I brought flowers, little treasures to eat, books -- and one time I brought a jade heart.

A heart of jade, more than three inches wide -- so heavy, and it barely fit in the palm of my hand as I extended it to him.

He gave me the usual "you know you're not supposed to do this" therapeutic dirty look as he hefted it. And then he said, "Well, let's talk about it."

"Is your heart jaded?"

And so it went for the rest of the hour.

Five minutes before it was time to go, we had the discussion of why I should take the jade heart home. But this time, he was a bit milder about it. I think he, as much as I, liked the symbolism of holding my heart in his hands.

It's been years. But he still has my heart.

Today's fragrance: from Holly, the retro-fragrance queen: "Launched by the design house of Leonard in 1977, Tamango by Leonard is classified as a flowery fragrance. This feminine scent posesses a blend of floral bouquet, moss and sandalwood." The moss and sandalwood become very apparent, very quick. Interesting.


Blogger BarbaraFromCalifornia said...

A jaded heart. I am green with envy.

Have a beautiful day, M.

9:12 AM

Anonymous Anonymous said...

I love it.

Every therapist I've ever had has tried to become friends with me outside of therapy. I'm done with shrinks. Those dinks.


10:15 AM

Blogger Kate said...

My shrink is awesome. He's helped me so much. I would not be who I am if I hadn't had his years of help. He's so SANE. I love that. But I don't have this tranference thing. And I wonder why? I think I'm supposed to. But I don't.

Sometimes I dread going to see him, I can't think of anything to talk about, I wonder if psychotherapy is really all it's cracked up to be, etc etc. But I generally feel better afterwards.

And people tell me I'm pretty together. I can stand up for myself, I can see a lot of weird human behavior very clearly. That's all thanks to him. But do I feel grateful? Not very. I paid him a lot of money! LOL. Maybe I'm the one with the jaded heart?

1:07 PM

Blogger Kyahgirl said...

I can imagine you were a delight and a holy terror, all rolled into one.

2:19 PM

Blogger robmcj said...

Nice blog.

Enjoyed the stuff about blogging
(did you know that blogging is now officially good for you?), and your openness about the heartthrob shrink.

Talented AND you can spell. Bravo!

6:26 PM


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