You know, I don’t think it’s blood that runs through my veins. It’s attachment. It’s attachment need.
I am wondering why, apart from the obvious, the therapist always becomes a source of obsession. That was K’s word. We were discussing my fixation with songs. How I can play the same one over and over 50 times in a row and still not get sick of it. It’s safety, we agreed, it’s feeling safe in the predictability of it. But it could be described as obsession.
We moved on to speaking about my attachment feelings towards her. How it hurts to think of her existing when I’m not around. “Is that obsessing too” she threw out there.
Looking back it’s understandable my immediate reaction was “no no it’s not obsessing” because why would I want her to think for more than a second that I’m obsessing about her?? How scary is that to think she might worry about me becoming a stalker, becoming a threat, becoming an unwanted pest.
But what is obsessing but doing or thinking the same thing again and again because there’s the safety?
What’s obsessing but thinking about K over and over and over and over and over again in a day. That’s obsessing. And maybe it isn’t something to be ashamed of?
I think it’s normal for children to somewhat “obsess” about their mums. Where’s mum. Is she there. Is she really there. Can I touch her. I can’t find mum. Where’s mum. On repeat. With a safe mum there’s safety. There’s safety in that repeated reaching outs. And the reaching outs make sense because mum is generally right there. That’s what she is there for.
So what if you have never had that? What if, instead of obsessing over a mum attachment, you had to obsess about your own survival? What if your obsession was how to avoid abuse, building unhealthy coping mechanisms to cope with it. Etc etc.
Instead of me sitting here obsessing about whether I’m sick [emetophobia], I’m obsessing about whether K likes me. Whether she cares about me. Whether she thinks of me. Whether she is proud of me. Whether she is really here. Whether I can touch her. Why sometimes I can’t feel her there even if she is. Etc etc.
I hold my hands up.
Yes K. I think I obsess about you.
I obsess about you because it feels better than obsessing about a phobia. Or my trauma history.
I obsess about you because that’s where my safety is. Deep safety. Shallow safety can be achieved within myself. Which is massive. Deep safety can only exist in relation to you right now. Because when you’re small, you need another to survive. You need it.
I’m small. I need an attachment to survive. You’re that attachment.
I obsess about you.
I am not ashamed.
My attachment trauma runs deep. So deep. I am not feeling, thinking or behaving in any way that isn’t totally understandable given how I grew up.
I know other stuff will follow this period of obsession. I also know I can’t keep worrying about whether I need to stuff down this obsession in order to keep you safe. It’s delaying my healing.
I need to obsess. And within reason, I think maybe you’re okay with that?