A stone on the grave of trust

  Dr. D.T., a son of a well known rabbi, the family escaped the holocaust , somehow, and from Jerusalem they went to Switzerland, where they could dance around the golden calf of human needs to be understood, they were all in the family business of understanding  people and connecting them to their need to be important and to make a profit out of a need of people not to feel lost and of a certain sentimentality towards synagogues and skullcaps. 

Truth is i had one or two rabbis in my family tree too and they were sometimes talking to me sending messages to my subconscious or pushing me to act, whispering to me in their voiceless formless presence to not allow anyone to shrink my soul, but did i listen to them ? Not often enough, they were mostly voiceless and vibrations are difficult to decipher , there were too many other energies blocking their presence, one of those was the fake jews of the swiss alps, a sort of community but not really interested in the fate of anyone but themselves and their trusted bank account. 

The T.s were all in the family business of selling “Lokshn”  ( noodles in Yiddish) to the lost souls , noodles in Yiddish to those speaking  Yiddish ..

Everyone is lost, this is a truth they hid so well , as they sat in their comfortable well cushioned seats, not just on the seder night but every day and night, the throne of importance while they the lost souls bow down to their gold calves, thinking they know more , and the truth was they needed to be needed so they did not have to look at the empty shelves of their store.

The voice on the phone giving directions how to get to his office sounded so stoic and gentle , sleepy, now i realise passive , a small man wearing a skull cap stared at us with calf brown eyes , as my ex husband proceeded to scream, reinacting our family dramas, and then Dr. T. got up and said, as i sat crying my role, “I can’t do therapy like this”

We had been sent to therapy after my ex husband, a teacher, had thrown our four year old son against the wall on a Friday night , and the hospital had decided to send us both to therapy. 

Nine years of on and off again relationship with a violent thug came to an end finally when my ex husband went for the shelter dog, a sad puppy, and dragged her in one of his violent attacks..not that she did not forgive him and sought him in her licking forgetfulness but i thought, there can not be a hotter hell than a man who beats a shelter puppy, but i was wrong, there is a special hell for therapists who make money out of that sort of suffering without so much as blinking a calf brown eye..

I had gone to the therapist with the skull cap, and felt i was at war, everything i said i felt, my therapist cast doubt, everything..i began to doubt everything but the violence had reached such lows that i had finally got the third court order and had my husband removed after a puppy from a dog shelter became the focus of his violence too..

It is not that i don’t feel anger, i feel plenty of anger, but i never feel it is justified to take it out on another person, and if i do, i feel GUILTY; RESPONSIBLE but the therapist did not feel responsible for anything, no one who had ever harmed me did, no one ever said to me “Sorry” , except one man, i had dated many years ago, he did not say sorry but he wrote me , he wrote me back , he made me feel i was a human being, not a thing, not an object to fulfill a need, i was someone worthy of a note, an email, five seconds of writing, Hello, it was a first and last. 

My ex husband was not only just an evil bone breaking psychopath, he had some good insights, he noticed, for instance, how all the therapists we had seen, some jewish, some not, some women, some men, a whole list of them, had not done any preparation , they just sat there listening and humming, one elderly swiss psychiatrist had complimented my husband, another jewish convert did the same, and i mostly got the scapegoat job, i was too scatter brained, incompetent and yes, lets not forget the number ONE on the list: I was not paying the bills, and especially not the therapist bill.

At a recent symposium about therapy and film i confronted a group of four Germanic psychiatrists i thought were on my turf, the artistic alternative scene,  by quoting the famous saying that “The neurotic builds towers in the air, the psychotic lives there and the therapist charges rent”, i only got a laugh from an honest therapist who told the audience he had been diagnosed with schizophrenia, but still practicing, how good for HIM…but none of them thought for one moment that later standing in a their closed circle of warlocks brewing their medicinal stew together that there was anything deeply disturbing in the choices they make to be passive listeners to what is wrong in society and the blame game that always goes towards the same people; mostly women, or anyone weaker, unable to sue.

I avoided dragging my therapy story into light and my therapist’s name into the mud , but one morning i woke up and realised that i have piles of bills to pay and my therapist was not taking responsibility, he just wrote me a quick email that if i was feeling distressed, i should go to the emergency station at the psychiatry..

I have been through a lot of distressing experiences in my life; I had a difficult challenging relationship at home, an empty place , devoid of love , affection or support, i turned to science in my anguish and had found rationality but not any way of knowing how to deal with my emotions till one day i discovered art, theater and poetry, music, places to channel my emotions and feel safe to detonate the mine fields of explosives growing up in a disfunctional family in a disfunctional society was..no, not everyone turned out bad in the family, my brother is a manager , my sister managed to suck a lot of money out of our parents life long hard work and i got some bones thrown my way every now and then to help sustain me and my sanity but mostly i got the message, no one wants you, and i learned to follow it like a dog follows a learned whistle and so i followed the therapist like that flute player in the folk tale, all the way to the river where i would drown my confidence , self esteem and got into the back seat of the same disastrous violent trip .

Sure, there were others, not only the recently deceased Prince, but i too got notes from Jehova’s witness, brochures , but i guess rationality was well rooted in me at that point and i saw sects for what they are , ways to make money out of people’s misery but that title must also apply to so many doctors and lawyers who make money out of people’s misery , take NO responsibility, unlike teachers who have to prepare their pupils for tests, the therapists have no reports to write, and no one to be held accountable to, most of them do not believe in higher power but that of the state that sends them a tax bill, so who is there to look after, to watch over the weak and the susceptible to buying bridges and those who trust and believe those who will deceive them again and again ?

I believe in artists who write and paint and speak from the depth of a soul connected to the universal love and the universal connection that binds us all and holds us responsible for our actions and our lack of actions to help when you can, and to be honest and to not take advantage of those in situations that make them particularly sensitive to be deceived .

I believe in the God of art , creation and the one who created in people the ability to criticise and to go over facts and to know that there is no justification and no excuse for taking advantage of people in difficult situations and there is a need ,a very great need to protect children from violent parents, and i don’t know at this point how, but i know now, thanks to Dr. T., how NOT to, how not to trust people who only want your pennies, how you should avoid all those telling you to bury your money to grow bubble gum trees, and not to trust any living finite being but art and poetry are infinite, and their wisdom is without limits, when it is true and connected to the ONE soul of the universe that connects everyone, no matter what their life choices are, but it is possible, very possible to pull at the leash and stay away from those who will harm you and your dear ones, and it is possible to take distance and to seek to walk away from a violent household , it is possible but you got to believe in your higher power and not somebody elses because scientific knowledge by itself is never a ticket to salvation, but it can be a start , it should not take 12 years or even a year, sometimes a few very wise words help , like 

“GET OUT!”

You don’t need years of therapy , woody Allen style, you need two words , maybe three, or five 

“Get out and stay out”

And that applies to the “good” doctors busy grooming their ever-growing ego and bank accounts at the expense of the lost and feeling a lack of a safety net and support. That goes double for those miserable teaks sucking the blood of those without an ability to judge and look at a situation with rational eyes, and let the universal creative power find the right sort of hell and send them there, on earth, there is a need for less of those “good” doctors and more good people without “.

About seagullsea

a seagull flying over the great ocean of life observing.
This entry was posted in a letter to the stars, a stranger in paradise, diagnosis, domestic violence, eternity ?, European life, fake vs. real, family life, feminine empowerment, planetary life, pondering psycotherapy, quest theory and practice, questioning questions, relationship, self analysis, self knowledge, survival, Uncategorized, understanding ourselves. Bookmark the permalink.

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