Today's session ended up being less focused than I might have liked. I began by telling R about the article I pitched that got rejected. She seemed to appreciate what a wrench it was to have my work rejected by the website Steve wrote for.
We briefly discussed my concerns over working with young people and writing about mental health.
'Have you considered that it might have a positive impact?'
'Not until a couple of seconds ago!'
'It might enrich your relationship with the young people if you show a little bit of Emotional Lost. I've read some of your work and you are always very professional.'
'I'm good at not wearing my heart on my sleeve, but that's why I haven't written publicly about what is going on for me now.'
Much as I wanted to read the writing prompt response out loud, I bottled it. I managed to explain about the process.
'It's not homework, so I don't have to do it, but this month's prompt was "What is the alternative to a happy ending?"
'Do you need me?'
I tried to explain that I was having a hard time with it.
'If you need me to, I can take over, or we can just be patient with you.'
I passed her the piece of paper.
'Should I read it out loud, or to myself?'
‘To yourself, please.’ I glanced at R as she read, but couldn’t get a sense of how it landed. She said that she picked up on the sense of pain and confusion.
‘You’ve written here that you don’t know what the alternative to a happy ending is, but you feel as though you are living the alternative.’
‘I’ve been thinking lately about the work I did with P, specifically about how we could talk around the emotions, but actually bringing the feelings into the space seemed to be forbidden.’
‘That was the message you got from her?’
‘That was the implicit expectation.’
‘The complete opposite of what I’m trying to do – let’s feel.’
‘When I tried to bring anger into the room, and mentioned that it was beyond words, P began to talk about outrage. Her analogy was about somebody hitting your car, and the sense that after that, you don’t really have words.’
‘I’m struggling to follow.’
‘I did too, but it was better than her analogy about animals and dealing with trauma.’
Over the course of the rest of our conversation, we established that ‘outrage’ feels safer for me than calling it anger, because outrage doesn’t impact anybody else.
In short, I’ve tried to press the mute button on my anger…and I’m really not sure how long that is going to work.
I reached for the letter, and twice picked up the wrong piece of paper.
‘Does that represent the anger?’
‘Yes.’
Rather than read it again, because we had limited time, I found myself saying ‘I don’t want to be OK with this.’
‘You don’t want to be OK with this?’ R went on to say that it sounds to her as though I’m in a stuck place. I cannot deny that.
‘As you were talking, I was imagining something. You have so many feelings…’
‘Are we talking about a mind map?’
‘You’re more creative than I am in a way, but maybe there is a way of representing the feelings, getting them out so that you can define how you are feeling, and how you want to feel.’
‘David’s latest series is on rest. I’ve had one Sunday so far, and other than his remarks on nostalgia, which blew my mind regarding my April experience…’
‘David Whyte does that to you, doesn’t he?’
‘Absolutely. One of the questions he inserted into Sunday seems relevant here. Can you rest into who you’ve lost?’
‘Oh, wow.’
If I accept Steve’s identity as a cornerstone support person in my life, I have to learn to live with that kind of loss. I can feel something brewing art-wise, but I don’t know what just yet.
‘What I can hear you saying is that you don’t want to accept this. Maybe there is some work that we can do, so that you can move towards accepting that this has happened, and work towards remembering Steve in the way that you want. The good memories are still there.’
R said that she was aware of the time, and didn’t want to leave me somewhere deep, so did I want to do some breathing. We did some breathing around connecting back to my body, and moving out of the mind.
When I opened my eyes, R asked whether I was OK to leave it there, and if I had anything planned for the rest of the day.
‘Tomorrow is a big day for me…it’s my birthday, and also the anniversary of the day you surprised me with your copy of the book.’
‘Happy birthday for tomorrow! You gifted me with the poem, I bought the book myself, but it remains the most sacred gift I have ever received from a client, and will remain so.’
When we said goodbye, she urged me to spend the rest of the day ‘washing all that off, so you can enjoy your day tomorrow.’
I feel blessed to have a therapist who shows me that she cares deeply.