Gregg P SullivanGroup Admin I knew of a music teacher at BHS while I was there whose flirtations and over abundant attentions to a girl I had a crush on raised suspicion. She loved the attention and had a crush on him. They spent time after class behind the closed door to his office many times and I would stand , confused and jealous and wait outside the classroom to fend off anyone who might go into the room and catch them. I wasn’t protecting him, though I hated the thought of him being close to her, I was protecting her because I loved her and she had a crush on him. The Cyrano de Bergerac chivalry my father instilled in me had me standing sentry outside that door to protect the girl I loved a few times , though she was with an older man who was , in my imagination , touching her. Confusion effects us all and clouds the minds and memories , the recollections and the effects of times long gone by are just that, the confusions and cloudy recollections of times gone by. Its so hard to know where to stand sometimes. and as for healing , sometimes it comes soon, sometimes not. Mounting insecurities, driven by questions I had nowhere to turn to ask for answers inspired me to go to a therapist after graduating from BHS. I just had questions and wanted to speak to someone . I wound up in a clinic on west 9th or 11th, street (not sure) in Manhattan by NYU. At first I had a really pretty therapist who I would have loved if she kissed me, but after a few months she had to leave to continue her education for her masters. She cried when she had to tell me she wasn’t going to be able to continue being my therapist anymore, and that she had to return to school.. I cried when she told me. It was very sad for me and I felt like I had just lost another place where I might have gone to find a friend . The woman who replaced her was not attractive and desirable like the first. She was homely and not attractive at all., and not to be impolite ,but she was uglier as a woman than Harvey Weinstein is as a man. During our sessions she started asking me how I’d feel about having sex with her. Truth be known, the questions I was seeking answers for never got addressed directly and I was just continually being flooded with questions about my mother and my father and my home life , when all I wanted to do was talk to someone about some things I had questions about. As my questions remained left for later and the analysis forced an unnecessary and frankly destructive focus on my insecurities that only grew larger with the endless focus on them until I started experiencing impotency . Because of therapy I went from being an innocent kid with some questions to becoming very nervous around woman and impotent under this ugly therapists care. As time progressed the therapist started wearing sexier clothes , I think I even remember a see through blouse, which made me even more nervous and each week I started dreading going back to that small dark room where that ugly woman would insist that I lay on a couch and look up into the abyss of an unlit ceiling , knowing she was waiting for me and was going to ask me about having sex with her again and pushing me for an answer that I would never give. “Just be honest with me . Tell me how you feel:” she’d say. For so many years to follow I was consumed with whether she continued to ask me why I wouldn’t answer her question “What about me? Could you have sex with me? ” Was she asking because she was trying to seduce this young boy she had a position of authority over or did she continue asking because she was trying to help me past my inability to speak to her about sex – with her?? Truth was, that Cryrano de Bergerac training my father gave me just didn’t want to tell her. “NO, You’re too ugly” . I went through that discomfort of having to go to see her for god only knows how many sessions until one day she rose from the big chair behind my prostrate position on the couch and came and sat next two me. I got so nervous I remember starting to tremble. nothing happened and the session ended and I never went back again but struggled with impotence for a few indescribably painful years afterwards. I can look back now and say that that woman crossed the line though maybe she was genuinely trying to help and be a surrogate. They did that Surrogate thing back then. It was considered a therapeutic practice back then. Now – I don’t know .All I know is what was then was then, and I never served myself well by dwelling on it. Infact, I never healed myself nor my impotence until I finally decided to not dwell on it and freed my future to claim for myself . We are not our past, we are the future we decide we will be.
Becoming Impotent Through Therapy
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