Session 34: Holes

Bert 1

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What’s with the hat?

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I just felt like wearing it.

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“Hole”?

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It’s how I’m feeling lately.

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therapist 3

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Like something’s missing.

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Something in you?

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Yes.

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What triggered this?

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Remembering my childhood.

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Oh.

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Dad’s drinking.  Mom’s depression.  How they fought.

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therapist 7

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How they weren’t really there.

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And the hole that left in you.

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Right.

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Well, I have a present.

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A present?

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Yes.  See that box by your foot?

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Yes.

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Open it.  It’s yours.

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Thanks.  Not sure it fits.

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Just listen for a moment. 

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Bert 13

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We all have holes.  All of us. 

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bert

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But you’re nobody’s kid now.  Your parents are gone. This is your life. 

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Bert 14

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And you can wear any hat you want to.

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Really?

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Really.

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I don’t know.  This still feels a little large.

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You’ll grow into it.

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……………….  * * *


6 responses to “Session 34: Holes

  • Clare Flourish

    For me, claiming my adulthood, the relationship with my mother has had four stages. First, this is perfectly normal. Second, this is vile treatment, I HATE her. Third, “she did not understand. She did her best.” Fourth, feeling sadness for the childhood I did not have. Fifth will be moving on from this, when I am ready.

    • Steve Hauptman

      Thanks, Clare. Yes, that sounds about right. For me the fourth and fifth stages bled into each other, and I found myself moving on despite the sadness, some of which I still carry. Cost of doing business.

  • The Field | New Heaven on Earth!

    […] Bert’s therapy: Holes (monkeytraps.wordpress.com) […]

  • releasing lunacy

    But, I’m still my parents’ daughter. During my darkest hours, my only reason for living was to save my parents from enduring their child’s death. I feel responsible for my parents -responsible for their happiness. My entire identity is wrapped up in being my parents’ daughter.

    I’ve come to understand this isn’t healthy. Ironically, I know my parents want me to be happy. But the only thing I know will bring me peace is ensuring their happiness. I don’t know how to want anything for myself. My self doesn’t exist. No whole. No hole. Just nothing.

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