“My patients tell me about their experiences. But I can’t tell...

“My patients tell me about their experiences.  But I can’t tell them about mine.  It’s frustrating.  Like the connection is so close.  Like we could be friends in different circumstances.  But it’s impossible.  I have a role to fill.  The therapist’s role is to hear.  To listen.  To help without asking.  To understand my patients’ problems, but to control my emotional response.  So I can’t tell them what I’ve been through.  I can’t tell them that I have no close relationships.  I can’t tell them that my mother didn’t want me.  That she abused me with hands and words.  That she was never happy that I existed.  As a child I was kept hidden from the outside world.  I couldn’t speak of my experiences.  I couldn’t express my emotions.  If it wasn’t for the church, I would not have survived.  The Bible was the first place I ever heard: ‘It’s good that you are alive.’  These are words that every child needs to hear.  If you go too long without hearing them, things get very dark.  And I didn’t hear them until I was seventeen.  Even today I’m constantly fighting the temptation to be alone.  It’s so difficult for me to form friendships.  I must challenge myself to trust people: that they won’t hurt me, that they won’t make fun of me, that they like spending time with me.  Because if I don’t keep fighting, I’ll spend all my time alone.  It’s so comfortable to be alone.  To become lost.  And to lose the will to live.”
(Berlin, Germany)