Blurred lines. 2nd August 2021.

 

After a passionate plea.

Sent as a voice recording. 

I said it was about the past.

I had needed to tell him how I felt. 

How I felt about my son, my husband, the fear..

But it was in the time of Covid, 

Zoom, 

I was in the house. 

Impossible to speak freely.

Now

I need to tell him how I felt. 

An hour isn't enough time! 

I want him to know who I am.

I sit in the car about to go.. 

This is not therapy!

I had sent him a voice message full of blurred lines, and five months later the blurred lines had sunk into the mud as trenches surmounted with razor wire...in a minefield. 

I had no way to know this as I hit send.

As I prepared myself to knock on the door and start this session I believed in him as a trusted companion. I wanted the enormity of my journey, the weight of it, the devastation, all of it to be witnessed and acknowledged. I was trusting him to see. And I needed an emotional, whole, a real interaction. 

There had been a blurring of the lines. There was a difference between his replies to me as he spoke as a therapist, contrasted with his responses when he spoke as a person.

The replies from the person seemed to come from someone else, in my mind this version of him is names as the brother.

The brother is the emotional, whole person, including therapist. All of him, and everything, good and bad. The brother is the missing energy, form and substance. I hear him sometimes; I hear him when he slips through the therapy filter and when Kit speaks his personal truth. The brother is the underlying and unsaid. He is real, and I loved that realness. 

But this session - 2nd August 2021, I'm about to talk with the therapist, the man of cloud (the 'cloud-wolf' if you have played The Path). Insubstantial, there is no solidity. Fire and light, steam, heat, nothing to hold onto if I was to dare cross the tightrope of memory, and so I needed to keep tight control least I fall.

It began well enough. 

I'd wondered how he would react to the voice recording? 

He said that he was so pleased. 

So I went through my collections of files and songs and artefacts, I narrated and illustrated my journey through the past. And I left him holding my notes. And as I left I didn't feel that I'd been heard. He had listened, but too much was missing. No reaction, he wasn’t there with me.

NOTE -Next day. 3rd August 2021.

I need therapy for my therapy. 

I've got to let go of fear and simply love.