Yes, it was naive, unrealistic, and "disordered" for me to expect otherwise -- looking for a fantasy care taker, like the fantasy I lived in after the trauma of realizing there was no one (in my family) who cared about me.

It was in processing the "failure" -- or maybe the success? -- of the last therapy that this reality now makes some sense to me. Very sad. Not what I "wanted" from therapy. I "wanted" to be fixed and then everything would be "wonderful" or at least OK.

Still, I would argue, 50 years for that? 50 years of unlived, mislived, non-productive life?

Oh, well. It is what it is.