At the house in Summit, New Jersey, my little sister–8 years younger–told me she had a dream that she was drowning in mud.
I took rhis very seriously as I was deeply engaged in ineffectually pursuing imaginary psychoanalysis based on the book, “August” that my psychotherapist had given me to read. It was about a young woman in psychoanalysis, psychoanalysis had been recommended for me and she could not deliver it.
So, as I remember rhe girl in the book dreams of drowning in shit so I knew that my sisters dream was important about her own troubles and I knew to be worried for her as well as myself; but I was so sick at that time I couldnt even take of myself.
My mother said that my sister was lying about the dream, much later I realized that that was the lie, saying it was a lie. She was just keeping me off my sisters back. And hers.
So, cutting to the chase, at Wernersville state hospital here in PA about 4 years later my hospital boyfriend (I used to always have some kind of a boyfriend) said that shit is about needs. At the time I didnt understand, and I always kept trying ti figure that out.
Obviously the image of mud is closely related.
Until I was 16, we lived in New Providence, NJ, one town over from Summit and at that time, a service community for Summit, Summit being a very wealthy town.
My parents played tennis at the community tennis courts on the weekends. Sometimes they would bring my brother and I. We would play idly in the concrete drainage ditch near the courts. One summer the entire area was all dry cracked mud.
Fast forward to the Lodge Program at Wernersvillestate hispitalin 1997. They took us on a camping vacation to this strange camping site beyond Berks County Prison. There was a dry mud and grass area with a number if small cabins.
I was deep in the thrall of the attack from patient P rhat I described in my last post, “Finale.”
Fast forward to Germantown, Maryland, a year and a half later, where the lake down the street was always blanketed wirh geese and the banks were covered with their poop; similarly the grassy embankment between the townhones; everybody took their dogs there and nobody used poop coopers.
I was so sick it was weird. And IT WAS POOP RELATED.
I didnt figure that out until decades later. But, the person who first recommended psychoanalysis–a psychiatrist at University Mental Health Services, when I was 21, before I returned “home” for a leave of absence, observed that I was ” needy.”
So, I connected rhe “mud” image with my sister, of course, my situatiin was bad, hers was worse. Thats how I identify my situation in the present, especially where there are things in the past that continue to inhere in the present and still need to be addressed.
And that is HERE NOW.
My understanding is that when we mivwd ti Germantown I was being held off as a mother because my sister was too insecure to handle my getting the help and support I needed for my condition. Instead of supporting me as a mother, THEY TOOK MY CHILD FROM ME and mothered him themselves. I was handicapped and I needed help. They refused.
I got the shit end of it.
25 years later my mother is gone and its a watershed. All that shit is coming undone and i have more to stay in this regard but I have an appointment and have to stop for now.
There will be another post, “Finale, 3” to wrap all of this up.
It will be about my marriage, my sister, and patient D at Wernersville State Hospital (from now on, “WSH.”)