I had an intense session today – began with a bit of a laugh, as R nearly arrived three hours earlier than scheduled. I began by saying:



‘If last Thursday was the lesson, then Friday was the test,’ before changing tack and inviting her to read the new poem.

She said that the piece was beautifully written, and she could almost take it line by line and ask about each one.

‘I postpone my own howling and shaking…’ She highlighted again how my poetry goes against the grain of me saying that I cannot express my emotions.

We moved in the direction of talking about the Friday, and I really struggled to explain what had happened. Eventually, I said that ‘I lost control…I cried.’ I talked a lot more about it, but couldn’t word it well or look at her. ‘There I go, trying to out-logic emotions.’ In the end she said:



‘You’ve gone away again…this is a bit directive, but can you look at me and try to help me understand?’

She offered her hand, which I grasped as I tried to look at her.

‘Too many words, not enough meaning.’



‘It doesn’t matter to me. That’s The Critic…you’re safe.’

‘You talked about crying as a loss of control. For me, it’s a release of emotion. There are many types of crying.’

‘I think that’s part of it – I never got any release from this.’ I waffled about how a ‘normal’ response would have been to walk away.

‘Normal?’

‘Normal and logical are the same to me.’



We talked about my urge to take off the mask, and R said that she sometimes sees it come off slightly ‘but as soon as I go out of the door’, it goes back on.

‘The only release would be…’



‘Stay with it…’

‘The only release would be her death.’



‘You struggle to even say the words ‘death’ or ‘die’. When you’re expecting somebody to pass or to die, there is a sense of relief…I might be bringing my stuff into the room, sorry.’

We did some somatic stuff, when she asked me to name what I felt in the present moment, and I ‘drifted’ into naming some emotions relating to the previous experience.

‘My shoulders are heavy.’



‘By heavy, do you mean tense? Can you release them? Sometimes we hold our shoulders around our ears without realising.’ I released them a little, but they’re still pretty tense as I write this.

‘Instead of being allowed to grieve, they gave me their grief.’

‘They gave you their grief and left you overwhelmed and depleted. You suffered, and continue to suffer.’

She asked me how I felt at the end of the session, and the only word I could reach was calm.

‘A complex calm.’



She asked me what my plans were for the rest of the day.



'I had a work meeting via Skype that was supposed to be on Tuesday, one of my colleagues emailed and cancelled with two hours' notice, mumble mumble, so now it's tonight, mumble mumble...'



'I'll interpret the mumble mumble for myself...I hope you have a good week.'