Boo!
Gottcha with that one.
Big surprise. Scared ya. Right, didn't I.
The sun goes down early, the dark falls fast. The shadows of the swaying branches seem to reach out for you. The wind picks up, the dry leaves blow up and and around your face. Is that a leaf or a bat? Does it bite?
Yes, but it's darker in here, isn't it?
Darker in the depths of my mind.
Oh yes, I good caring therapist. Works hard to do good and be helpful.
Ha, sure.
What about all the resentments stored up after all these years?
The slights, the times I've been over-looked or not even heard.
The fantasies of going into those trashy bars that the downest of my clients go to when they are angry and depressed and looking for trouble. How I can be clever enough to set this guy up against that guy, watch the fight break out and then walk off with their trashy women.
And what about all my counter-transference problems, now that I've become an invisible old man?
But that's nothing; that's trite. It's really about the feelings and thoughts that well up like the slime and sludge that sinks to the bottom at the sewage treatment plant. It's the vileness, corruption, and decay that builds up after decades of being battered and beaten by the demons that come howling out of the night, a world that just won't give a guy a break. The demons of stupid wars, of needless excess, of vain-glory, of unrequited vengeance over the smallest, unintended indiscretion.
The soul get nicked, then chipped then cracked. It gets covered in scar tissue that hardens as it holds the remnants together.
It comes to the worst of all conclusions:
Trick or Treat?
Who the fuck cares?
2 comments:
To be a caring therapist for the majority of your life, takes a special soul and heart.
What you describe, is what people feel when they have been beaten and battered their whole lives. When they truly believe they no longer have a heart and soul...yet, I think that the heart and soul is still there, just in a very protected place.
I am sure that your would have resentments up the kazoo. To work so hard, to care and try and make a difference, only to be totally ignored or even blamed. Especially in regards to transference, what lovely little games our minds can play.
Invisible?? I think not. You write this blog...which helps people in ways you may not know.
Who the fuck cares??? Maybe a lot of people, and people who cannot express that to you. Maybe that client that spat in your face, will look back years later and think of you, and remember what you told them. Feel bad. Lesson learned, just a little later then hoped for.
Well, I can still see you, even if I don't always say so. :)
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