Today’s session felt different. R came to the door and I let her in.
‘Good morning from a very nervous Lost.’
‘Nervous Lost… I will just use your loo a minute.’
She came in and sat down.
‘I’m wondering why you are nervous.’
‘You remember… You may not remember. Once upon a time I sent you a YouTube video.’
‘Yes… It was a country song, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes… Since then I have been working myself up to and talking myself out of sharing one of my own songs. The reason why it has taken so long is because I was working out the best way to share it. When I sent the photos… When they sent the photos… I would not send photos, I would not put myself through that.’
‘You’re getting tongue tied.’
‘Rather than respond to the e-mail, I wrote a song. I walked into a music session last year and said “I need to do something, and then forget that it exists.” The recording you are about to hear happened then. If the lyrics aren’t clear, I have a copy here.’
I pressed Play and found that I could not look at her whilst the music played. I felt a rush of emotion, but did not cry. The song finished and R thanked me for sharing it.
‘I am curious about how it was for you listening to it. I was engrossed, but it looked like she you were having a hard time. It seems like a mountain for you.'
‘I nearly cried within the first 3 seconds.’
I explained that I first played it at a small venue, to about 20 or 30 people, and that I asked my friend to sit on the step.
‘He said he didn’t know the song. I said that wouldn’t matter.’
‘Was it just to have somebody there?’

‘Yes. There was another occasion when I played it at a different venue, and I don’t know how he knew I was in trouble, but I heard him say “I’m going over there”…he picked up the chorus, and we finished the song together. He describes it as his favourite song I have ever written, so I ended up playing it at every session we both attended. It used to be the last song I played before finishing up for the night, but there is no sense in finishing up the night feeling like ****.’
‘No. How do you feel about the song now?’

‘I once described it as “The song that means the world to me, that I wish I’d never had to write.” There was a tenderness there, but there isn’t any more. The third line of the last verse is the only part that feels true now.’
‘I know peace can’t be when sorrow lingers.’

‘The last verse was originally different. The first two verses are as they came, but I was not happy with the last verse. I woke up four days later…’ I burst out laughing.
‘I know what you mean. You didn’t sleep for four days.’
I remarked that I was angry when I wrote it, but it doesn’t come across as an angry song.

‘You said last week that you had been too polite. The song is very tender and loving.’

We ended up talking about my anger towards them. ‘I did not need this. I did not ask for it. It feels like a violation of who I am.’
‘I am having trouble finding words.’

‘Are they the words that don’t feel right in your mouth?’

‘Yes. I did not ****ing deserve this.’

‘With the deluge of information, even if I felt I could cope with it, I would not have asked for it.’

R remained silent through this.

‘I was in a place of…piss off! Utter devastation.’

‘I feel the fire within me, and I need to let it out, but I am keen that I do not destroy anything.’
‘With what you said there, your voice was raised. I felt the anger, but I didn’t feel like it was directed at me, if that helps. I felt the need to say nothing whilst you were in that space. My silence was an acceptance of that…and if that’s what you need to do in this space…’

I asked R whether she could ask more questions to facilitate my being in that space.

We talked some more, and R wound the session up by commenting on my being more in control since the New Year. I referenced a work situation as potentially having given me confidence.

We scheduled for the week after next.

‘Thank you for sharing your song. Well done, lovely.’