Several patterns play themselves out in my life.
Each one is a link to some aspect of my childhood that either is either a scar
or is a source of salvation.
If insanity is repeating the same mistake with the hope of a different outcome, than I have been completely insane since childhood.
One of these insane patterns is that of seeking out and hooking up with narcissistic women.
There are other patterns based on the community in which I was raised: the racism, the antisemitism, the homophobia and the static class system as it existed for people at the very bottom.
These patterns of repetition became especially pronounced when I stopped working and entered therapy.
Psychotherapy means dredging up memories that I want buried under a mountain of distraction and denial.
I often go to therapy in a state of emotional distress, walking through panic attacks and other flight or fight reactions.
The literature I’ve read regarding the treatment of trauma and dissociation states Psychotherapy as essential for successfully resolving a complex trauma disorders.
Cognitive approaches teach people to manage distress but they won’t resolve Complex-Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.
The patients’ job during intensive psychotherapy is to ask why.
Why do I seek out women who are devoid of the capacity for love?
Why do I veer from an extreme identification with the middle class to an extreme identification with the poor?
Why do I force myself to fail economically just as I get closest to winning?
Accepting the option to ‘know thyself’ means living in a perpetual state of brutal self-questioning.
Why do I sometimes behave as if I hate myself?
None of the intellectual and political constructions that served me as gay activist in the 1970’s could defeat the internalized homophobia that AIDS unleashed.
I watched men die from grief, self-hatred and fear.
I was nearly one of them.
This was when I realized the true function of any ‘ism’ is to convince the target to self destruct.
This was why any novel written about gays before Stonewall usually ended with the suicide or the impoverished death of the main character.
AIDS was the greatest tragic ending, fraught with the dissonant myth of a loving, yet angry and vengeful God.
Internalized homophobia was the least of my problems.
AIDS was trauma on trauma.
I did not know that I had a dissociative disorder.
I did not know that I was living in the worst possible place at the worst possible time for someone with DID.
The political climate in San Francisco coupled with the fear brought on by the epidemic fueled a political backlash against the gay community.
Increased fag bashing was a trigger.
Friends who were healthy one week and dead the next were triggers.
Any spot on my arm sent me into panic, so much so that I became a frequent flyer at the local clinics, which eventually gave me a prescription for Xanax.
I did not know that Xanax was addictive; I only knew that it made the fear go away.
The straight psychiatrists I saw were completely removed from the Gay Community and the AIDS epidemic and didn’t understand why the panicked
patient whose friends were all dying was so distressed and unstable.
The pharmaceutical industry reported that Xanax had an anti-depressant effect.
By 1986 I was on a prescribed dose of eight milligrams a day.
Everything that happens during the course of Psychotherapy is a representation of the trauma, its affect your life, and the meaning of your symptoms.
For adult survivors of abuse a common theme in therapy is mistrust and the fear of forming an attachment.
DID allows a part of me to make friends and to form an attachment while protecting the parts of me that are fragile and afraid.
My task in treatment is to intentionally make all of myself vulnerable to another person; in my case, a woman therapist, since most of the damage was done by my Mother.
This process of building trust with a woman who wants what’s best for me and who acts in my interests is the path to becoming whole.
In the Hell of my childhood nothing about me was acceptable.
I was a show-off, too sensitive, too feminine, too much of everything that people in my ‘class’ had no right to be.
In the world of my childhood, God rewards the Godly with a good Christian family, white skin; and money.
A lowly birth meant your place in God’s plan was bondage.
The idea that all Americans have a right to a stake in the wealth of our nation was deemed an absurd fiction, a delusion foisted on good people by damned Yankees.
Children instinctively want to please their parents; it’s an evolutionary adaptation that enhances survival.
The double bind for an abused child is that the only behavior that pleases the parent is an abdication of the self.
As I enter my fourth year of intensive psychotherapy the questions I must answer become more confounding and painful.
But at least I know what they are have the strength I need to ask them.
(c) Rob Goldstein 2015-2017
The Photo of Xanax found on Google Images
First posted November 1, 2015-updated November 8, 2017 – After 7 years
of psychotherapy and I’m pleased to say I’m getting better.