The Bitch on The Therapist; Part I

The way you had to unravel me to get ahold of your own feelings. How you had perhaps no idea what had it been conscious would have had you behave so differently. Not in the halfhazard way that only confused, saying something then denying it was said. Direct insinuation then the projection, the shame.

But perhaps you didn’t know I was only being honest, never a disingenuous word did I ever speak. I feel all you did was lie to me and when I said to you tearfully how much you had hurt me,

you told me In a cold and removed voice

Julie I can’t make you feel a certain way

You were my therapist. You were well aware this wasn’t truth. But it’s opposite, and at its root, all your own unmet needs.

What was only in the silence/ the unsaid became bigger than the reality of what we had been. For three years you Had been my therapist. You told me six months prior what was between you and I was real. I was leaving session that day when you turned and said this to me. Why

The seed had been planted. A perversion of transference. My inability with my disability to make sense of it. Unable to untangle the emotions you deliberately brought up. It was the most intense apart of therapy you had already told me. The process in which you began to abuse me, projecting what you hadn’t grieved and the parts of you you felt fully rejected onto me. You were so angry at what I wrote. At the assertions, which were they not true, you could have sat back, profressional and removed. Instead you became increasingly angry, all without telling me.

 My apologies were as sincere as my terror between sessions that you were repeating the trauma on many levels that had ever happened to me


Knowing what you were doing, that you were the only person I trusted. I had assumed it was apart of therapy that I was told was not by the next therapist who validated my suspicions. What happened was Not right.

I had thought you had meant what you said and you did but attempted to take it back. Outright lied. Why did you hug me six months prior to the many statements you would later deny?

To be continued…


Julie Assmus. P.I.

Published by julieassmustheword

I Am. Many things. As many as you. All work and words are BY ME from my own opinions based on upbringing, genetics, experience and internalization of it among many other things, known and unknown. We are all a mystery. Really.

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