Am I finally going to grow up?

Divorce, therapy, tears, homelessness and dealing with my inner child.

Somehow my conversations with my main therapist have stepped up an entire level in the past weeks.  For one, we can be talking about any old thing and then suddenly, almost as if from nowhere, we touch on something that goes straight to the depths.  And then I am too choked up to speak, or just end up sobbing.  She’s been brilliant at receiving that.  A skill I should like to learn.

The other thing with her is that the ease of interaction has stepped up a notch.  It was always easy.  There is a patient-doctor thing going on which facilitates that.  But now, I feel that there is also a personal connection.  She has opened up just a tiny bit, in a way that does not compromise the boundaries, but has shared some of her personal interests and hobbies.

I was able to share between therapists.  My favourite therapist recommended a book which I will review shortly.  It is called Existential Kink.  It is not about kink.  It is about healing.  The kink in question is about our shadows and learning to embrace them.  That they exist for a reason, and that we take pleasure from them, which is why we indulge them.

Not trying to give it away, but there you have the management summary.  What was sweet is that she had bought the book and read it on my recommendation.  And after 30 minutes of me skating around all issues, and then sobbing for a minute, we got onto the topic of existential kink.  She told me she loved the book.  And also, that she could see me so clearly in it.

“Maybe you can help me understand the book,” I said.

“I surely can.  I can see the role of kink in your life.”

“But it isn’t about kink,” I protested.

“Let’s explore that.  You have all these unpaid bills.  All these piles of paper in your office of things you haven’t taken care of.”

“Yes, my wife used to take care of all of those things.  I hate paying bills.”

“Do you think that your mind should be on other, more important things?”

“That would be very arrogant of me to think that.  But maybe.”

“Is it the bills?  Paying the bills is very adult.  Competent.  Organised.  You are those things in your professional life, but here, when we are talking about taking care of yourself, just the basics, you aren’t doing it.  Was it that your wife dominated you?”

“She did really, only she didn’t know it.  She’s still doing it.  Being bossy and taking control, and I am being passive.  Letting my lawyer defend me.  But her lawyer is really bossy too.”

“Yes, and what’s going on?”

“I never got the benefits of all that bossiness.”

“You say you’re a baby.  Babies don’t control things, do they?”

“No.”

“So, is not paying the bills your way of saying you’re still a baby?”

“Uh oh.”

“That’s what existential kink is.  Now how about recognising it, taking pleasure from it?  The idea in the book is that when you do that, these things will fall away.”

“Do you think?”

“So many things have already fallen away from you.”

“Yes.  I have to do the work.  I can’t not grow.”

“And you’ve done a lot.”

“You know, when I am in a kinky relationship, I struggle to take joy from the same things twice in a row.  If Mistress swaddles me once, then I don’t want her to do that the next time because I have this block about wallowing in my own fetishes.  It is an expensive pleasure for one…to expensive to waste on orgasms.  Far more important to develop as a human and get real value.”

“Say more about that.”

“There’s only so much that a mainline therapist can do.  There is a level of intimacy that you can get to with a Sex Worker that isn’t accessible.  More importantly, we can go straight and deep into sex and sexuality, which is the essence of our shadows.  I’m not saying that everyone regards it this way.  That anyone does.  But I do.  It is an obsession.  It is what makes it worth it.  Ex-Mistress did more than crack me open, she put wind in the sails of the direction I needed to travel in.  I don’t know how she did it or why it worked, but I remember the moment.  It was when she fed me a bottle.  I asked her, ‘what did you put in that.  It was so delicious,” I recounted.  “And she said, ‘I can’t tell you all my secrets’.”  We both laughed.  I’m very good at imitating people’s voices and mannerisms.

What’s happening next and why was I crying?  Well, this time it was that I will be giving up the family home soon.  I can’t afford to keep it.  And the thing I hate the most, moving, will be upon me once again.  And I don’t know where I will go.  I will be technically homeless.

My therapist was naturally concerned about that.  Not least because of the linkage between trans people, homelessness, and other issues.  One of my children said it all when they asked, “but where will my room be?”

I don’t know my child, I don’t know.