Today’s session ended up going deep. R flagged up what I had said about guilt in my email, and asked me whether I could pinpoint the difference between this and previous anniversaries.

‘In previous years, it was a celebration of the gift that was Chris’ friendship – right place, right time…amongst thousands of other members, but only a few active members, and I was so lucky…’

‘And this year?’

I talked about the tension between the anger and the sense of celebration, and then read an excerpt from my journal in which I talked about being left with words I would not say to another human being.

‘I no longer have to deal with intolerable information at inconvenient times, but I have to deal with intolerable feelings at inconvenient times. I became a dumping ground for all their pain, as well as my own.’ I paused. ‘What the **** am I supposed to do with that?’
R asked me to try out a few phrases.

‘I have the right to be angry about things that were done to me.’
‘I have the right to be angry about things that were done to me.’ I reported that I felt a ‘solid feeling’ in my stomach. R asked whether it was comfortable or uncomfortable.

‘Uncomfortable.’

‘How about ‘I have a right to be angry’?’
‘I have a right to be angry.’ I reported a spreading feeling in my stomach.
‘More or less comfortable?’

‘Less comfortable.’

‘How about ‘Everybody has a right to be angry?’
‘Everybody has a right to be angry…I felt that in my chest, not in my stomach. That feels right.’
‘Remember what we said last time about anger being a feeling and then an action? Perhaps we could change that statement to ‘Everybody has a right to feel angry’, but I don’t want to confuse things too much.’
‘Yes.’

R asked whether we could put anger and sadness side by side.

‘Can you say those statements again?’
‘Starting with the first one?’
‘Just the last two.’

‘Everybody has a right to be sad.’ I didn’t feel a strong response with that one.
‘I have a right…’ I reached for R’s hand.
‘I have a right to be sad.’ I reported that I felt a sensation of collapsing inward.
‘I have to deal with all this ****, and my person is gone.’ My voice cracked as I said the last words.
‘You have to deal with all this ****, and your person is gone.’
‘Your person is gone, and you are on your own.’

‘Rationally I know I am not…’

‘You’re going into rationally, try and stay with the emotion.’
R said that she was going to say another word. ‘Caution.’ I almost laughed.

‘Throughout our relationship,’ she said ‘I have experienced you as cautious. You filter what you want to say, and avoid getting too close to emotions.’
‘If I get too close to anger, I burn to a crisp. If I get too close to the sadness, I go over the edge.’
‘It sounds as though you have made up your mind about what will happen. Do you know what is over the edge?’
‘No.’
‘Nobody wants to go over the edge, and nobody wants to burn to a crisp. So, what are you left with?’
‘Staying where I am.’
‘And how does it feel staying where you are?’
‘Ten tonne backpack. Stuck.’
R highlighted the difference between the two experiences. Chris respected and protected me, and made me feel safe. I nearly cried at that point.
‘The abuse only happened because Chris died and they had access.’

R offered that we could do some breathing to finish the session, before asking whether there was anything else I wanted to bring up. I said there wasn’t, not that I could bring up in that moment.
R led me through an exercise devised to release the tension in my shoulders.