A container that can(not) hold me fully

She flushed. Her facial expression changed. I noticed it even through the screen. 

“I imagine holding this giant rubber hammer and hitting this person on the head” — that's how I expressed the anger I was feeling — solely confined to the bounds of my imagination.

I noticed her immediate reaction, and then I heard “I’m just going to ignore that because you are angry” — from the practitioner that was meant to hold space for said anger.

This was a therapeutic setting — the one place meant to be safe to bring feelings and emotions.

Even this cartoon-like picture of my anger was too much for the practitioner.

Photo by Kiran M

Her reaction reminded me of holding a hot potato — she didn't know what to do with it, she tried to juggle it from one arm to the other, and then she passed it back to me — in the form of shame.

The practitioner’s unprocessed relationship with anger was now my problem to deal with.  

It is a risk that lives in every therapeutic relationship where a practitioner has not examined their own material. And when it surfaces, it does not disappear from the room just because we don't want to engage with it or don't know how — the client is left to carry it alone, along with the shame of having brought it in the first place.

I knew I wasn't welcome in my wholeness there, only in a very polished form. I wasn't going to do that.

Instead of explaining and trying to convince her that I should be allowed to feel what I feel, I decided that another container is better suited for me. One that can hold me fully.

If you are looking for a space that can hold you in your fullness — you can reach me here.