[Partless]

I had this older T who was fond of poetry and stories. Which I hated. My dad used to tell me stories like that and so I have bad association with that. One day I was feeling so upset and angry about mom and why she won't change. It was perhaps the hundredth time I had mentioned this to my T, about various things I had done to change her, about how she kept shattering my basic expectations about being loving and caring....

Then when I was finished, my T told me a little story. Today when I saw the shorter version on a psych blog, I decided to share it:

"Nasrudin was a mythical figure, a teacher from the Sufi Muslim tradition, who supposedly lived in what we now call the Middle East. One day one of his students walks into a room where Nasruddin was reaching into a bag of hot chili peppers and eating them one at a time. There were tears streaming down his face, his nose was running and his lips swollen and irritated. He was obviously in great pain. 'Why don’t you stop eating those hot peppers?' the student asked. 'I’m hoping to find a sweet one,' Nasrudin replied."

The story had made me tear up. I hadn't cried in therapy for months. I suddenly saw myself as Nasruddin, this lovable fool, going back to mom again and again in search of finding a different mom this time, because I wasn't willing to accept that a thousand interactions of ours had not revealed the real mom yet. It had suddenly become clear to me how many years of my life I had spent thinking about her, how deeply I had wanted her to be a different person, how I had this fantasy of somehow changing her to make her be the mother I wanted and needed. I come back to this story again and again, whenever I find myself insisting on something be something that it's not and can not be, just because I want it to be so.

And to this day, Nasruddin's simple-minded and honest intentions, his dedication to his search, his suffering, brings tears to my eyes. Like a child he doesn't know any better. He doesn't know that maybe he can find what he wants elsewhere. So he keeps eating peppers over and over again. In search of a sweet one. And keeps suffering.

[harvest moon]

This story is describing to the point what I had spend my whole life doing in relation to my mother, subconsciously hoping that it will be different with each and every new try.

My T is very well-read and a writer himself so in every single session he uses stories, tales, mythology, poems etc etc. to illustrate what he is talking about.. It's something that I really love, I feel connected, since I too share his interest and love for these things, and it helps a great deal.

[JustShakey]

That's beautiful, thanks Partless
I love poetry and stories and metaphor. I kinda wish I had a T who was into it too... I'm very shy to bring it up though - life has taught me to keep myself hidden...

Make me a mask and a wall to shut from your spies
Of the sharp enamelled eyes and the spectacled claws...


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[2or3things]

Thanks for this thready, Partless. I really connect to parables, and I LOVE a good metaphor. My T doesn't use a lot of that stuff, but I love it when she does.

Recently T and I were talking--actually about the very same mother issue you've alluded to above--and said something about me barking up the wrong tree. (OK, it's not an especially elegant metaphor.) But I told her its because I believe she's the only tree. T said "Look around. There are trees everywhere." I realized she's right...that she and my partner and lots of other folks I know have good, strong roots and are beautiful and solid and can "hold" me. Since then I've been reminding myself, when I fall into that habit, that there are lots of trees, and that someday I hope I can be the tree for my daughter, partner and others that they deserve.

Partless, I mentioned this metaphor to my T today. I said that my huge problem is that once in a while, I DO get a sweet pepper, and it is really awesome. Then back to horrible. So we discussed how many sweet peppers make the hot ones worth it and where you draw the line, maybe take a tiny bite and it is hot wait for the next one, etc. This was really helpful for me today. Thank you.

[stopdog]

None that I can think of. I have used them to try and get the therapist to understand something but she does not seem to get them.

[brillskep]

My therapist and I use lots of metaphors. I can't think of one in particular. They just help us get the point across and understand each other and help me to understand myself better.

[Partless]

Originally Posted by My kids are cool

Partless, I mentioned this metaphor to my T today. I said that my huge problem is that once in a while, I DO get a sweet pepper, and it is really awesome. Then back to horrible. So we discussed how many sweet peppers make the hot ones worth it and where you draw the line, maybe take a tiny bite and it is hot wait for the next one, etc. This was really helpful for me today. Thank you.

Thank you for sharing this and I think that's very important and I can relate to this too. Isn't that torture, to get that one sweet pepper and go back for more, only to get so many hot peppers instead? It may be that this character may have found a sweet one before (there are variations of this story), that's why he keeps eating to find more. Or maybe they look like they could be sweet. Or maybe it's the only thing he got and he desperately needs them to be sweet.

In my case, since it's my mom, the person who gave me life, I need her to be different. So I keep eating the hot peppers, find one that tastes kind of sweet, once in a while, believe there must be more (because my mom has to be sweet) and continue with the suffering of going back over and over again with the expectation that will inevitably be shattered again and again...