clear vision - clear results

A lot of talking at the start. I entered with two things, a statement and a question. The question was in relation to women, whether or not I was even in the right mindset to be with one. I told of the dark foreboding I get when I look around at them, and then he said that at least I recognize this, but how correct could the thought be, if I don't even know the woman? He continually drives home the point that not all women are the same, the opposite of which I do believe, or are after money, but everything in my experience leads me to think otherwise.   He brought up his example of the woman who starts to like me, which leads me to think, automatically that she is trying to trap me. He said there's a potential alternative view to the situation, to her, but I don't want alternative viewpoints, I want the truth. Can I see what's directly in front me? Then he said I cannot arrive at the truth if I am locked into this one way of seeing. Repeatedly I asked him to c...

I related my dream of the soldiers, plus the sword & woman with black eyes. He interpreted it, quite simply I might add. Woman with black eyes=evil, demon. The sword capable of being wielded by man or beast is my fear of my anger, and the soldier with the great sword is my anger, my potential to do damage.   Then I covered my eyes. This world is so fucking ugly sometimes, actually most of the time. Have to see the beauty in the dark spots.   I pointed at him with my eyes closed, saying that he did not care, that nobody cared. So fuck  em . I don't care. But, as he said, I don't care is the opposite of fuck  em . Fuck  em , implies deep feeling.   Physically, he pressed on my back, calves & neck. I refused to kick, saying that I could not. I lay there, and did not wish to move. It was like my body was saying "No."   Coming back, its slightly strange. My neck, on the left side feels looser. As does my psyche. It ...

Today was an important session I feel, for reasons I'm unable to delineate just yet.   It was on the whole a conversational session, with plenty of give & take.    My mistrust was outlined once again, and I posed many questions concerning women. Chief among them was: if I have two impulses or desires from them: one to feel secure, and loved, and the other to run free, and wild, which to follow? His answer enumerated Freud's pleasure principle, which basically is to say, do what gives you the most pleasure, if you can stand it. A central qualification. My counterpoint here was to say that a backup is needed, as things inevitably can and most often, do fall apart.   Then he spoke of my tendency to  ab normalize  the female impulse to reach for comfort/stability in men. He said I have trouble accepting this from them, that I tend to cast a mistrustful eye whenever the subject of money is involved. And I should. Or should I? I want...

We humans live in an amazing world, an amazing and a sad world. I saw her last night. a facsimile of the one, the one woman who approached me all those years ago. when I first came to New York. that it happened within a day of me going on one meal diet is substantial to my eyes, it continues to amaze how fast the universe is in responding sometimes. The other thing I feel is, I'm heartsick over this woman. and I don't even know her. so much for my idealism being dead? I thought it had been killed off by New York City. whatever the case, some strong blows have definitely been dealt to it by social reality over these past years in my life. What do I want? I don't know. I want both. To have the security and love in a woman, but be able to run free, wild, simultaneously.

The indentation over my left brow smarts. Memories of being hit with the belt buckle return to me. If this is the cause, truly it is amazing in the fullest sense how the body stores injury over many years, even for a lifetime.     It started off jokingly today, then I grew silent and, the trouble began to emerge from my limbs. Achingly, as if needing the release that only full expression brings, negative or positive: my body yearned to shout, to hit, to kick. I held it back, long as I could, then I asked for help. The towel first, then him pressing down on my brow. At inception, the thought of asking for assistance infuriated me, however, it was either that, or explode, literally.    The tension there is still felt by me, I suppose. The only thing I know after today is that I have a lot of hurt in me, raw physical hurt, from the beatings of course, and, more importantly, that my back-to-back approach is working. I will continue.

First of the month. I'm on the train with a slight tension in the lower left of my occiput. Doc pressed over my left eyebrow, and...I heard panic in the shouts coming from my mouth. It was instant.   Mostly I did not talk. I told the Doc I was tired of talking. He said that was OK, and just sat there, and let me be silent.    Thank you.   We humans are funny creatures. Funny, and strange. Oftentimes lately I am starting to wonder what the hell I'm doing here. Not in therapy. On this madhouse we call home. Earth.   Back to the session, after the shouts, I kept my eyes closed. Whatever it is, I don't want to see it. The air felt strange, thickly charged somehow, like an overbearing weight was leaning on me, blanketing me. Doc was close, yet he also felt far. Some negative transference was spoken, by me of course. Tomorrows' another day.

Today I said mo words yet, I feel better.   Mainly I thought about women, and how stupid, mindless and superficial they are. I thought about a better place. Is there a better place I could go? I feel extremely confident that there is. Confident that I could find it, hopeful that it exists.   As far as my interactions with women go, well I could build a "deep" relationship with a woman, only to get my heart ripped out, and have my identity vanish years or even decades down the line.    Or,  I could just touch & go. Fuck them where I can, and keep rolling. Enjoy the connection with the ones I feel connected to, and keep moving. The better alternative.    I was silent because, I didn't want to talk. So sick of talking. Fucking tired of talking. It means almost nothing.   Whatever happens, who gives a fuck eh?