I analyze what is going on in my head a lot (and in C’s) and often I am still left wondering what is really going on in there. I know that ripping sensation inside is sadness, but why so very sad. What is that feeling of insanity that starts coming on? What do I really mean when I say to myself that I feel completely insane?

I was thinking about this yesterday because that insane feeling was closing in again, and it did occur to me that I felt like hitting someone. Is it always like that? Is “insane” when I feel on the verge of lashing out? It might be.

What do I do about the ripping sensation? What do I do about the insane feeling?

I have a bit of time before class today—lots of work, needs to get done, feel I need a bit more worked out in my poor melted brain before I go deal with children. So I am thinking about it.

I know more and more that C is still there. The last thing she said to me was that she wouldn’t meet me on Sunday. She looked very frightened when I said I would see her on Sunday, and then lashed out saying she wouldn’t meet me. I asked why and she said “Like that.” Ok, just to hurt me then.

I wish I had been more able to be in touch with my own feelings yesterday. It wasn’t my best day. I remember it now, and I feel sad. My child was hurting. I feel so much tenderness for her in that moment of hurting and lashing out. That very angry child she was feels about three to me, stomping her feet and saying, “I hate you.” You were gone and I missed you and I hate you for leaving me. If I had been able to feel all of that, it might have been better for her. She got someone instead who was rather wooden. Not reactive at least, but wooden.

Anyway, she did that and I still felt she was there. She is angry at me and part of that—maybe a big part of it—is distortion, but it’s also honest. She didn’t say why she wanted to hurt me. I imagine she had no real idea, but she was mad. She was just so very mad. She was expressing that to me. Not in the best way, but she expressed it. She was able to communicate that to me. And I communicated back to her. I said that is your choice. What she got back is I am still here. You can be mad at me and I will not leave you. I am not going to force you to sit in my lap and cuddle. You do not have to pretend you feel nice right now, but I am not going to leave.

So I think one thing that happens in these reunions is that there is a kind of fantasy expectation about how it will feel or what it will be like. Even though she did not tell me to come to meet her—I didn’t even know she would be there. I was just getting a pancake delivery person. Still, I think there is this expectation, like it will be a joyful reunion. Of course, it isn’t going to be a joyful reunion. We both have attachment issues. It will be a fraught, fucked-up, difficult reunion.

I think it is possible in both our minds there is a sense that we have failed. We can’t do reunions right, because we want things to be other than how they are. This is what reunions are like between two people with attachment disorders. They are difficult. We work perhaps at not creating total ruptures and disasters. But they aren’t happy times. They are instead times of trying to at least somewhat communicate honestly about pain, which I think she did. I came and she was in total despair—the little parts all wanting to meet me, and big C telling them no you can’t. And then the angry parts pushing me away. I think there might be a degree of shame and self-hatred over that. I can’t even do a reunion right. I can’t even be happy to see someone I missed.

There is still something about that honesty. With everyone else, she has to pretend it’s a happy reunion she isn’t having. So maybe there is a degree of connection over that. She at least gets to express her feelings openly. I wonder if that is why the rage can become addictive for some people. At least it’s an honest expression of feelings. At least the connection to the self gets reignited again.

Those are meanders though. I was thinking I do feel more that she is there, that I am still connected to her even when things are a mess and it’s difficult. I feel like it’s still her, instead of WTF happened there? I am getting some kind of object permanence.

The thing about that maybe is that then I feel seen in some way. She is still there. She is at her school and I am at my school and from time to time, she thinks about me. Various things. Maybe she misses me. Maybe she feels she hates me. But I feel I continue to exist for her.

And I feel bad. It’s like if she is always there, and I am always here, then what she sees is the bad me. The bad me is me all the time. It’s not something I can just not be. I am the same me all the time. That bad me is the me I always am, and not just when I am having a shame shower.

I need to prepare for class now. But hell and damn. That’s a big thought to have.