[sunrise]

This week I had therapy and told T about what happened with my parents a couple of weeks ago--how I told them about repeatedly getting lost on the way home from school when I was little and how this led to their acknowledging some of the great unspokens of my childhood. I had a thread about it:
http://forums.psychcentral.com/showthread.php?t=170455

I only left the last 20 minutes of the session for this, so we were kind of rushed. T immediately got how important the conversation with my parents was, how momentous even--my parents recognizing and acknowledging to me that how they treated me made me terrified of them. And how they wished it had not been that way. T wanted to know how I felt when my Mom said to me, "I should have come to the school to meet you." I told him I felt like she was saying that she wished she had done things differently. T said yes, and shared what he himself felt when hearing this, "Thank you. Thank you sunny's Mom for telling sunny this, before you die. Thank you." He said that moments like these are what Healing is, and therapy too.

T tried to describe what we were doing--sharing these key and healing moments--as a metaphor, and he looked for one I could connect with. He said about 3 of them, but the only one I remember was, "we are standing together in the Sistine Chapel, looking up at the ceiling." I was really flooded and couldn't think in metaphors. As T would say these things, which placed him and me in the outside world together, in the presence of some splendor, it was disorienting to me. I just wanted to be there with him now in his office, like we were. That was the best. I felt like he was wishing us to be somewhere else, like where we were wasn't good enough. I didn't need us to be in the Sistine Chapel looking at the Michaelangelo. As T said his 3 metaphors, he was asking for mine, but I was not able to think that way. (I needed to process, plus the first part of our session had been very emotional and I felt drained). So I kind of brushed them off. I tried to tell him that being there in his office together sharing this with him was like those metaphors for me; how we were was all I needed. Being with him in his office, and sharing as we do, can feel momentous and special and even holy--I didn't say these last words, but it is what I tried to articulate in my flooded state.

Now that I've had a few days, I have processed more and am ready to have a metaphor. I've been thinking of a couple and did feel there was one image that came fleetingly to mind when T was talking metaphors. It's an image that borrows, I'm sure, from countless films and stories (Indiana Jones?). T and I are underground making our way through dark, dank passages and caves--cobwebs, bats, mold, etc. We come to a widening of the path--an underground room--and see an old, rotting wooden chest. We throw back the lid and it is filled with jewels. Together we stand there in the warm light cast by the glinting gold, the sparkling gems.

When you come across a treasure, it is nice to have someone to share it with, someone who appreciates it. A therapist is someone to share treasures with?

[WePow]

" I tried to tell him that being there in his office together sharing this with him was like those metaphors for me; how we were was all I needed."

For me, I think that is beyond beautiful. I do like your other metaphor too... but what you saw in his office in that NOW was wonderful. To just be in the NOW and WITH another person is a wonderful thing.

Originally Posted by sunrise

Being with him in his office, and sharing as we do, can feel momentous and special and even holy--I didn't say these last words, but it is what I tried to articulate in my flooded state.

T has described moments in my therapy as "sacred" and has talked about walking on "holy ground". Because that is what it IS sometimes, you know?

And it sounds like your T was sharing that feeling....out of all of the metaphors he could have chosen, he chose the Sistine Chapel...

I'm so glad you were able to share the story of your parents with T. It's so awesome to have someone who knows us so well that we can just tell a story without ANY explanation and they just totally "get it".

I'm glad you had such a special session, sunny

[sunrise]

Originally Posted by treehouse

T has described moments in my therapy as "sacred" and has talked about walking on "holy ground". Because that is what it IS sometimes, you know?

And it sounds like your T was sharing that feeling....out of all of the metaphors he could have chosen, he chose the Sistine Chapel...

I like that your T said that, treehouse. I do think there are moments in therapy that feel sacred. I like that not only do I feel that certain moments are this way, but that T does too. Even after being a therapist for many years, a T can still feel those things and know when we are in the midst of a sacred moment. I think it can be helpful for a T to acknowledge that, so the client knows of the reciprocity. Even though the Sistine Chapel metaphor wasn't one that grabbed me, it has become embedded in my mind. I keep getting an image of T and me looking up at the beautiful ceiling together, heads thrown back, holding hands. There have been other times when T used words drawn from religion (even though we don't often speak directly about religious matters). One time he told me that the words I had just offered to him were words that I was laying on the altar of our relationship, and he accepted.

[coconut64]

Sunny, I'm glad T was able to give an appointment sooner to help you process the conversation you had with your mom. I wish I could hear something remotely similar from my own mom, but she doesn't admit anything, ever. Nevermind trying to talk to her about my childhood. She won't go there, even lets me know how therapy is such a waste of time and that I will only hurt myself by talking about it.

I love the relationship you have with your therapist. I find it enduring that he was symbolizing through all these grand images and while you were grounded and comforted just by being right there, at that moment with T.