Janet's example would have surely struck Jung owing to its resemblance to his mother's having to sit behind her father – to keep the devil out – while he composed his sermons. John Kerr

When my analysis began, Jung adhered to Janet and sat behind me
to keep the devil out. I grasped at devils, some longed-for flesh inclined me.

I was a cracked mirror's view of Mother – nothing coalesced – no wounds adhesed.
Demanding obtuse angles, I refused direct view. Therapy occurred behind me.

My skin a prison, he labeled it a case of hysterical delirium. They all did in those days
given a woman patient. Each session, hours in the chair, he confined me.

He thought to hear about paternal rape, drunken sibling orgies, blood
between my infant thighs. I did not satisfy him. Mama had refined me.

He never asked what I'd grown up knowing about genitalia – male and female,
how man enters woman. He had no idea Mother's tyranny was meant to blind me.

Such a waste. He presumed all the wrong afflictions. His word associations began father,
brother, uncle. The world held pivot on a penis when Mama was who bound me.

A Sabine, I am from a matrilineal culture no Freudian understands. Jung grasped
Father's raised hand, a child's hidden flesh exposed to fury. In this way, he maligned me.