A couple days ago...was a breakthrough therapy session. It's been a thick fog, distant voices, snippets of conversations with Neo, since therapy. I've mostly been sleeping, lying down or simply deeply lost in this waking, walking self, reminding myself to eat something and take puppy out for a walk. It's good that I am temporarily living alone as even the idea of carrying on a coherent conversation eludes me.
Yesterday the only clear thought was "I live an extraordinary life." I know I'm not average or anywhere near close to typical based on my experiences and reactions to them.
Just now, I realized that I no longer feel desperate. Desperation was my constant sidekick, and, for some reason, based on therapeutic events...it is gone.
What was I desperate for? Someone to hear my disparaging screams. Judging by the uncomfortable silence, lack of eye contact and the wide berth I was given in the crowded waiting room after session, I made my voice loud enough for all to hear, even from the office of occupied about 20 feet away.
After decades of pounding walls and muffled screams, I found someone willing to hear me or a therapist I felt I could take that chance on.
Gone is the desperation...the aching for food, money, a body to hold, and the searching, the frantic running through dark, scary forests filled with ravenous beasts.
It's weird, odd, almost unsettling to feel my own feet and to not be running towards some thing or chased by fears.
Near indescribable really, to be out of the tear-soaked, thick clouds and find clarity on semi-solid ground.
So, this is the ground? Strange how heavy it all feels...
Anyway, it would take 7 hours and 12 pages to write all that transpired in this week's one hour session. As the mists continue to lift, I'm sure more clarity will present itself.
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