We are back from my birthday celebration, Maria showed me the most wonderful time, we  spent a night in a cozy B&B near Woodstock, Vt., bought some beautiful pottery (photo coming later), at something different at a wonderful Caribbean restaurant, and we stopped at old junk and used book store named “Hillbilly Recycling,” near Bridgewater.

Maria spotted this beautiful old three-volume biography set of Ernest Jones classic study of the life and work of Sigmund Freud. At an old vintage bookstore, this could cost a small fortune, I have often drooled over this set, at the Hillbilly Recycling shop it was $15, she grabbed it and bought it for me.

I guess you could call me a Freudian, during one of my first breakdowns, I underwent analysis from a former pupil of Anna Freud, Freud’s daughter in New York City. I was in analysis for nearly six years, it was a profoundly important experience for me, the beginning of my awakening, of the long road back to humanity and connection.

Some of Freud’s work has been overtaken by new and dynamic theories of healing, but his work is very powerful, it altered the course of my life and began the first genuine healing in my life. In analysis, I first came to see who I really was, and if that wasn’t pleasant, it was important.

I was thinking of Freud last night when I realized I had become somewhat addicted to a Netflix series called Happy Valley, a dark, haunting and very  beautifully acted and photographed and directed by Sally Wainright. I confessed to Maria this morning that I have somewhat fallen for the lead character, a police sergeant in West Yorkshire, England,  her name is Catherine Cawood, played by Sarah Lancashire.

How strange, Freud found me when I needed him, once before, once again.

The show has gotten into my head, I have spent hours in the dark of night watching this very dark program, it goes from one haunting nightmare to another. Sgt. Cawood is a remarkable character, as strong as she is vulnerable.  Her life is a relentless and something nightmarish challenge, she never quits or loses her values or strength. She is a true hero, as frightened as she is brave.

Maria said she was glad I have fallen for a TV star, there is no chance we will meet, and she is glad I have fallen for a strong. woman. Not the first time, I said, which drew a smile.

This show is difficult for me to watch – it brilliantly reflects some of my almost unbearable fears about vulnerability and danger, some of which I talked about in my analysis in New York. My analyst would have surely wanted to plumb the depths of my psyche to know what I am so drawn, even addicted, to this kind of a show. I watch it in the middle of the night, and it is so fascinating and mesmerizing, I can’t skip it.

Then I am so cranked up I can’t sleep. I have had long encounters with addiction in my life, I was a valium addict for 20 years, a three-pack-a-day smoker before that, and a heavy drinker of Scotch before that. I recognize the feeling of addiction of being trapped in Happy Valley, when I should be asleep or watching those comfortable and safe British mysteries (Patti Smith and I are addicted to the same shows)  where life is so orderly and reasoned and the Chief Inspector never fails.

I see in Catherine Cawood so much of the struggle in my own life – in very different ways – to find strength amid terror, adversity and nightmare. I am not literally in love with her, but I love her strength and determination and sense of justice, which never seems to fail her, even as she is confronted with one awful menace after another.

I think Freud would have same I am re-enacting my own fears and  hysterias, Happy Valley and Catherine Cawood is stirring them up in me, hopefully challenging me to confront and release them. Sometimes, the plot is so unbearably menacing I fast forward the video button, Maria keeps asking me why I am watching.

Cawood has lost her  daughter to suicide, is stalked by a savage psychopath, and every day confronts the worst of humans. Every day she has to find her strength and stand behind it. Why would this program touch me in this way? I don’t really know, of course.

I don’t need to go into detail, but I was often terrified as a child and into adulthood, analysis helped me to see myself and begin the long and arduous process of recovery. My analyst said it would be long and  hard and painful, and it has been. I did not quit on it, and today, the fear that paralyzed me and caused so much difficult for me and others is mostly gone.

I don’t watch much TV but this program  has brought back the awful nightmares. So I have to deal with it, I can’t seem to run away.

I think I will be watching tonight, perhaps dipping into my Freud biography as well. There is something here for me to face and find, how curious for someone who doesn’t even own a TV and is drawn to very few offerings. Something unfinished that draws me in, that becomes something that feels like an addiction, not an entertainment choice.

I want to hide, I need to stay.

Sgt. Cawood lives with almost unimaginable terror – actually it is imaginable for me, some of my nightmares are all too real, as I sit in the dark in bed – and keeps her soul and dignity intact. I know there is something good here for me.

I can do it, I am a Freudian through and through, Freud’s work and the work of his daughter Anna have always guided and grounded me. They started me on the road to self-awareness.

They seem to be back in my life for the moment, sitting on a shelf in a place that calls itself the Hillbilly Recycling, along with a mythical but unfailingly honorable police sergeant from West Yorkshire I never even heard of a few days ago.

Something inside of me that needs to be seen and confronted, just as Cawood confronts her own devils every day. Life is filled with crisis and mystery, the path is ever straight and clear.