Therapy Notes

上次的session提到我为曾经的自己感到非常非常心疼，年幼时的自己似乎总是过得很艰难，又过分被规则限制，很容易钻牛角尖。

但我似乎也没思考过为什么我那么痛苦。一方面我不愿意承认，似乎是人之常情，总还是希望认为自己过得还不错。以及，我对自己的情绪很陌生。

最近发现我可能在autism spectrum上，从小的状态，父亲的遗传。妈妈对爸爸的厌恶是再明显不过的事情，导致我有任何和他很像的迹象都会被干预，更何况是社交这类很明显的活动——当然她不会愿意承认我有这样的缺陷。她对自闭症的理解和很多中国人很像，是一种疾病，但如果是疾病就是可以治愈的。于是我被扔到人群里，从私立幼儿园被扔到公立幼儿园，被扔到英语课、舞蹈课、表演课。这些本身其实并没有太糟糕，因为我的适应能力似乎还行，但也有效的把我自己都骗过去。但是我知道我一直需要表演，表演班上我的表现平平，但确实勉强足够应对现实状态了，尤其是如果我愿意的时候。

那么艰难的幼小的我自己其实也是需要面对自己与其他人很不一样的自己。这样的育儿方式下，我一直觉得自己有某种不足。不够专注，不够responsive，不够social，不够知道和谁社交对自己有用，不够主流，可也没聪明到可以非主流的地步。当然我也做不到真的融入，总觉得融入不了，但也总不知道为什么。我一直以为是因为妈妈不让我社交，没想到她其实一直把我放在可以社交的场合，但是在那些场合里我做不到。

在我还在幼儿园的时候，我最想社交的是和小区里的其他人。可能是因为简单，只要一起追逐打闹，不太有文化课上的拘谨。但我不被允许这么做，因为妈妈觉得那些小孩的家庭素质低，换言之就是和我爸很像。

我难过的原因之一也是因为我被我妈妈控制的说起来也让人难以置信。控制我似乎很简单，因为我没有太多反抗意识，而这也源于我没有感知自己情绪的能力。

从来不喜欢旅行，也是因为不熟悉的环境和人类给我的刺激太多。3岁的我在作息被打破、有过多的人类并且被强迫做各种事情的时候没有别的选择，只有meltdown。

但meltdown也不太随机出现，因为很少有强过我妈妈给我的刺激了。而顺从她也是非常合理的选择，毕竟这样对我的伤害最小。

外婆是这一连串的伤害中唯一的例外，可能是因为她觉得我很好，不会要求我不做很多事情。但也因为和她在一起我开始表达了，我妈妈就认为我没有autism。和外婆在一起的那种安全感，长大之后很少再体会到了。我的insecurity是很多很多担忧和焦虑的混合体，而我每天都在其间呼吸。

我一直让我的直觉保护我，也确实被我的直觉保护的很好。我会主动推开其他人，romantically or not. 一部分的rationalization是我有需要完成的事情，而在relationship当中我需要不得不面对这些过去的残骸。另一部分是我对自己极度不信任，有一些我做过十分后悔的事情，可能对当事人没有太大伤害，但是还是让我觉得自己有一些abusive nature，会把我自己吓到，而理性上我不想伤害任何人。

说到底，我很害怕成为我父母那样的人，一丝一毫也不可以。我不希望其他人成为这些过去的受害者。

也因此会有自杀想法，it ends with me，是一种解决的思路。真的没有很想活下来，虽然身体还是会本能的保护自己。

长大一路上也还是结交了一些朋友，想来她们也都不太符合社会主流，有各自的特异之处。高中时我遇到了一个和我一模一样的女生，很喜欢她，但是她恐同。

妈妈和我说，和她做朋友能感到我的状态变差。现在想想，其实只是变得更像我真正的自己，不只是cynical，也是更anti social 和活在自己的世界里。

妈妈其实什么都明白，但是她确实把对我父亲的怨恨投射到我和他相似的那部分身上。我因为受她影响也会厌恶这部分的自己，于是我变成了至少两瓣。

直视这一瓣的自己我非常emotional. 我之前也一度觉得自己非常privileged 有那些attention，去上那些课，去读那些学校，真的没理由抱怨。但其实这也不是抱怨，事实上我享受数学课以外的大部分课，这点上我确实很幸运。但是它们确实也让我没有什么可支配时间，于是我没太多时间可以真正放下面具。

我的痛苦的真正来源不是这些课，而是这些大大小小的系统给我带来的自我否定，持续的彻底的自我否定。我否定我的才能，偏好，和其他人不那么一样的地方，尤其是和我爸爸很像的地方。我被否定并且主动否定我的友谊，我和朋友特殊的非常深的联结，情感上的互相依靠，所有脆弱而不完美的交换。之前我对此的比喻是，作为一个女性，我似乎在toxic masculinity的教育下长大。

但其实也不完全是，我只是还会被教育一定要成为社会上可以接受的非常容易沟通的那类女性，但不能付出真正的感情，因为那样会吃亏……因为我妈妈吃过亏，所以她不希望我也吃亏。我妈似乎觉得，像一个男人那样，但是又有女性的社交技巧，是世界上最强大的组合。也许她说的确实在男权社会下有一定道理，可是这也是强人所难。

即使远离我妈妈，远离上海，远离这一切，我还是会持续的被影响。这些经历告诉我的是，有一部分的我非常非常的恐怖，需要被摆脱，但因为摆脱不掉，至少应该藏起来。这部分的我牵挂我的欲望，我对他人的渴望，我对交流的渴望，但这部分的我也非常不擅长做这些事情。

于是我把生活变得更像做菜，但做菜也有一定灵活度，因此我以为我游刃有余。

咨询师让我写上次咨询的感受，除了同情以外，也是一个very hard moment to look back. 我越来越需要正视这部分的我自己了，因为它也是我的一部分，它曾经非常痛苦，需要很多安慰。它是我的几乎所有vulnerability，我虽然不介意和其他人提及，但是会害怕吓到其他人。那么想自杀、痛苦、抑郁的自己，被自己厌恶的自己、很没用的自己。

但我知道它不是真的没用，也不只是给我带来痛苦的过去。它是我接受我自己的契机，因为我曾安顿好它，但对它很不公平。事实上它曾带给我很多congruence，很多快乐，带我认识我自己，带给我友谊，也带给我美好的回忆。反而是另外的那部分，被社会规训的、被妈妈控制的、被自己放纵的那一部分一直在伤害我。

可是看着它，我百感交集，只能流泪哭泣。我和其他很多人对它都太过分了。

Last session I mentioned that I was really sympathetic for my past self. The younger me seemed to be always struggling, always going for extremes.

However it seems that I have rarely thought about why exactly I was struggling. Well, it is only natural to deny it. I would love to think that I was fine. In addition, I am very alienated to my own emotions.

Recently I realized I might be on the autistic spectrum, evidence being my social interactions (or lack of thereof) starting from a very young age, as well as part of the heritage from my dad. My mom’s ressentment towards my dad is beyond obvious, and it results in her intervention of any parts of me that’s similar to his “shortcomings”, let alone social habits, something that is very obvious–of course, she wouldn’t be willing to admit that I have such shortcomings. Her understanding of autism is very similar to other Chinese people’s understanding, that it is a type of disease, but since it is one, she thinks that it is “curable”. And thus I was thrown into the crowds, from the privavte kindergarten to a public one, to the English classes, ballet classes, theatre classes. These are actually not too bad by themselves, because it seems that I have good adapting skills. However, it was so effective that it fooled myself. I do know that I always need to “perform”. In that theatre class, I was only average, but that has been enough to deal with realities, especially when I am willing to perform.

The younger me was in fact struggling with facing myself who appears to be very different from the other people. In my upbringing, I have always thought I lack certain things. I was not tentative enough, not responsive enough, not social enough. I didn’t know enough about who to socialize with, and I was not normal enough, but it was also not the case that I was smart enough not to be. Of course, I was also not able to really fit in. I could never do it, but I also never knew why. I thought it was because my mom stopped me from socialization, but I didn’t think about the fact that she has always put me in circumstances for socialization, just that I was never able to do it.

When I was in kindergarten, the people I wanted to connect with the most were the other kids in the neighborhood. Maybe it was easier, since all we did was running around. There were more restraints in the civilized world, such as in the classes I took. I was not allowed to socialize with them very often, because my mom looked down upon those kids’ families, or in other words, they came from a world very similar to my dad’s background.

My mom has an unbelievable tight control over me. Controlling me seemed to be easy, since I was not very confrontational, and till this day, I don’t know my emotions most of the time.

There were more signs.

I never enjoyed travelling, also because unfamiliar environment and humans gave me too much stimulation. The three-year-old me could only have meltdowns when my schedule was interrupted and I was forced to do all sorts of things on that trip.

My parents learned the hard way not to bring me on extreme travels ever again.

However, meltdowns did not appear very often, since there has been very few triggers stronger than the ones my mom gave me, and obeying to her is a very reasonable choice, as it will give me the least harm.

My grandma was the only exception in this series of abuse. I was very open about myself, probably because she thinks I am good the way I am, and she wouldn’t demand me to do anything against my will. Seeing me being me, my mom just thought I don’t have autism. The sense of security I felt when I was with my grandma rarely happens as I grew up. Unfortunately, I could only visit her during the breaks, and so trips to Wuhan have been something I always looked forward to, and I always felt sad when I had to leave. I still remember staring out of the taxi windows as we went to the train station at night, hoping to remember everything I saw. In middle school I had my smartphone, and so I took pictures of the neighborhood my grandparents lived in.

My insecurity is a combination of many worries and anxieties that I breathe in on a daily basis. I learned to be fully prepared for any changes. It might seem to the others that I have always been trying new things, but they probably won’t know that I rehearse almost everything in my head, consciously or unconsciously. When I finally try them, it will not be completely new.

My coping mechanisms worked well, until they didn’t. I became really depressed when they didn’t work well anymore.

I have always let my intuition to protect me, and it has protected me well. I will turn people away romantically or plantonicially. Part of the rationale is that I always have other priorities than exploring my connections with people, and in a relationship I would have to face the ruins from the past. That would take a lot of work and expose myself to all sorts of things I would rather forget.

Another part of me distrusts myself. I have done things I deeply regretted, and even though they probably didn’t harm the others that much (or at all), I think I have some abusive nature. It terrifies me, and ratioanlly I don’t want to hurt anyone. Put it in another way, I am very afraid to become people like my parents, and any similarities I found in myself freak me out. I don’t want others to become the victims of my own past.

And so I became suicidal–I said, it ends with me. It is a solution, and I don’t really want to continue my life (let alone having kids to continue that cycle), even though my body would protect myself with survival instinct.

I did manage to have friends when I grew up, and now I think back, most of them were not so conforming to the mainstream society. Each of them are wierd in their own rite. I never managed to keep connections as I move to different schools. Sometimes I’m not even able to keep them over the break.

In highschool, I met someone who thought about the world exactly the way I did, and I liked her very much–just that she was probably homophobic. My heart skipped a beat when she and another friend asked “you are not homosexual, right?” Their tone was playful, sarcastic, and with a sense of disdaine when they said the word “homosexual”.

I could only said no. I was very nervous as I said so, probably because I was partially lying (I identified as bisexual at that time) and I was afraid that they sensed anything.

We were walking down the stairs after the Monday morning assemblies during my freshman year of high school. It was a sad sunny day.

I still kept her as my friend, until my mom told me in my sophomore year, being a friend with her made me perform more poorly. Now I think about it, it was most likely because I became more like myself. We were not just cynical, but also more anti-social, and we lived in our own world. Being weird together felt great, but nonetheless I was conscious about the fact that we were weird, and it was a little hard to maintain our friendship with my feelings for her. I had to withdraw.

I never met anyone like her again, and I do regret cutting off with her with a seemingly serious excuse. I knew it was an excuse, something most other people would approve of but I knew enough that she was innocent.

I found it hard to be as open to others as I was to her, but I also accept it to be a punishment to my own decision.

We performed a piece together in the second semester of our second year (I think it’s Summers from Kikujiro). She played the piano while I played the harmonica. It went not that great especially because we were performing among music students, but people thought we looked like a couple. This comment flattered me (while I was aware of the fact that it didn’t make those people any less homophobic, since it was only romanticization and we did not display any intimacy, which would definitely have disturbed everyone), but the rehearsals and math classes did not reconnect us.

I don’t feel too bad about this, but it was extremely complicated. I mean, after all, with her orthodox Catholic background, I don’t think we can connect in any way in the long run. She told me that she would just follow whatever the religion told her to do, since it’s easier this way.

I can only describe this encounter as unfortunate but somewhat rewarding.

My mom almost knew everything, but she also did project her resentment towards my dad to the part of me that’s similar to him. Under her influence, I also learned to hate this part of me, and so I performed a dissection.

Looking at this unwanted piece of myself, I became very emotional. I used to think that because I am very privileged to get the amount of attention I had, to go to those classes, attend private schools, I have no excuse to complain. In fact I did enjoy most classes other than the math class, and I am very lucky to say this. They did also leave me no time that I have control over to become myself without masking.

My pain does not come from these classes or schools themselves, but the systems of various levels that brought me self rejection, continuous and radical self rejection. I rejected my talents, preferences, things that make me different from others, especially the part that’s similar to my dad. With my mom’s comments, I actively rejected my negative and postiive emotions, friendships, deep connections that are very special, all the vulnerable and imperfect exchanges. The metaphor I used before was, as a woman, I grew up with education of toxic masculinity.

It’s not completely so, since I still was educated to be more easy going. But I can’t expose my vulnerabilities, because I will be worse off… because my mom was worse off, and so she hoped that I wouldn’t be. My mom probably thought that to be a man but with women’s social skills would be the strongest combination one can have. Well, under a patriarchal society that makes sense, but it’s also forcing me to do things I can’t do.

Even when I am away from my mom, from Shanghai, and everything associated with them, I am still constantly influenced by them. These experiences taught me this: there’s a part of me that’s very very scary that needs to be gotten rid of, and since I can’t really get rid of it, at least I should hide it. This part of me controls my desire, desire for others and connections, but it’s also not very good at it.

And so I made my life similar to cooking, but since cooking allows flexibility, I thought it was enough.

Last time my therapist asked me to write down how I felt in conseling. Besides feeling sympathetic (with the younger self), it was also a very hard moment to look back. I do need to look at it more, since it’s also part of me. It almost is the root of all the vulnerabilities I have, and while I don’t mind exposing it to others, I am always afraid that it will scare them. The part of myself that’s so suicidal, painful, and depressed. The part of me I hated and deemed as useless.

I now know that it’s not useless, and it has been much more than something which brought me pain. It opened up the corridor I could accept myself. I did make various attempts to accomodate it, but overall I treated it unfairly. In reality it did bring me a lot of congruence, a lot of joy, help me understand myself, bring me friendship and good memories. It was the part of me that conforms to social standards, controlled by my mom and spoiled by me that kept hurting myself. I needed this mask to be functioning, but there has been side effects, and I can’t endure them anymore.

I am finally crying as I wrote this. I felt triggered, sad, irritated, and pain. I am also very glad that I rediscovered these memories and feelings, even though this process effectively gave me insomia two days in a row during the midterm week and prevent me from being productive.

I think they are more important than my midterms, or, honestly, anything else.

I do plan to call my former friend soon. I apologized last semester, but I think I should do it again.

It will be an apology for her and for myself.

Notes: Even as I was writing it, I was surpressing part of the emotion I have for the person that led me write this article. I did not sleep well, and so the second day I couldn’t really focus on anything. Last time when I was in a similar state of shock, it was political depression (and anxiety since it was my first time pursuing activism that actively). I don’t know why in particular this is a very anxiety-inducing event, but talking to Aya, it seems that we are in a very similar position.

Aya said to me and herself to take it slowly. My brain can’t properly think due to anxiety and exhaustion, so I guess that’s what I would say about this for now.

10/27/2023

1

I was slightly triggered again as I saw that narcissist in a class I cannot avoid. He did nothing today. He did not try to initiate a conversation, and so this was the mere fact that I saw him again. Prof Gully was assuming that we are still good friends, since she is left completely in the dark. I was very anxious when he said he might stay here for the winter break (and then I remebered he doesn’t really have a place to stay) and that he was asking about German house application, and that he might visit Stella.

I obviously cannot dictate whether he stays friends with Stella or not (knowing Stella), or if we will see each other in the German house, or if he will stay here. The prospect of having to see him was frustrating. I felt angry, because it seems like he does not understand the degree to which I don’t want to see him. Well, granted, I didn’t tell him that. It would be also kind of rude to say so, but I go for extremes when it comes to dealing with people I think that are abusive. I guess a part of it is also the fact that he hid all of the damages really well. I unconsciously judge my decisions all the time, and so I know just as well that I will not be justified (even though I don’t really need to treat it in that manner). I also couldn’t say anything because I don’t want Prof Gully to be involved.

I am honestly fine with maintaining a distance with Stella just to avoid him. I guess I have the love hate relationship with Stella. I know her too well, and so I know that she will not really support me in anyway unless she completely agree with me, which she can’t.

Worse part is, I unconsciously believed that I had to perform vulnerability for people to trust me, but I do feel vulnerable. The type of vulnerability I experience is not something I could describe (so I couldn’t display it), but I know how normal people will feel vulnerable about. I was vulnerable, most likely (since I don’t really feel anything) because I was frustrated by his mere existence, which reminds me of my relationship with my dad, and since I figured that I can be frustrated by his mere existence a month ago, I am also frustrated by myself not keeping a distance when I see the signs. With my dad, I constantly want to revenge, but I know that this urge was planted by my mom from a very young age, not something I myself intrinsincly have. The amount of self-hatred perpetuated by my self-judgement on the matter is enough to shut me down, and so I avoid this topic as much as I could.

Rationally, of course, I know that nobody will be able to do anything about these information/signs. But we are talking about being triggered here. And trauma response is freaking random. I never enjoy being triggered, and I doubt if anyone will. I also never really know what I can do when such events happen, or how to deal with that person… I think I will be ok to see him in class once every week, but I really wish he can vanish into the void. I am unsure what I should tell him to protect my sanity in the future. I don’t know how he will take my words. I don’t want him to use it against me, but he most definitely will.

I said that the only thing I really wanted him to do is to take a hard look on himself. It will be like this:

Hey look, I know that you were really trying to be a good friend, but what you did was really messed up. You know that I hate when people micromanage me, disregard my autonomy, or desrespect my boundaries. As a narccissist, you really managed to do all of that. To me, and to people close to you. I want to applaud you for being able to do it at all, considering the fact that my trust issues usually reject people fairly quickly. I really thought if I let down my guard a little, since we knew each other for so long, everything will be fine. I didn’t think you are a good person. I just naively believed that you will be somewhat kind at least to me. You probably tried, and then you failed. But this one is on you, not me.

You don’t deserve any friends if you keep doing this. I cannot stay friends with you, or let’s be more clear, I don’t want to have any connections with you at all. But unfortunately I offered too much support, and now you are everywhere in my environment. Being a narccissist can be a result of your upbringing and your personality, and while Stella might be ok with it, I really am not. I grew up with one, and as I said, there’s just no way I can date you. What you did was very similar in intent to what abusers in my life did to me. I don’t think I can forgive you, let alone like you in any regard.