Sunday, July 3, 2011
Yesterday I called the therapist I last went to seven years ago. My son was in eighth grade then, and now he is finished his sophomore year of college. She heard something in my voice and she fit me in, and recommended a double session, which turned out to be exactly what I needed. As I talked the tears and fears just overflowed. I felt like a person who had been parched with the deepest thirst who found a cold, fresh waterfall and I stood under that falling water and sent all my cares swirling away. Nothing seemed so scary afterward. Everything just was. I had so many pieces of the puzzle but didn't know to put them together. She helped me see the picture whole. She helped me get past my own locked-in place so that I could find the room called compassion. Understanding. Forgiveness. Love. She helped me drink deep from the fresh cold water. I'm not so thirsty anymore. I plan to go back, to keep going back. For a while anyway. This is a whole new stage of life. And in a weird way, everyone dances around me, as I dance around them, and if one of us is out of sorts, then everyone is suddenly out of sorts. If I am in balance, my husband and children and even my mother will have an easier time finding their own balance. So, with the old people declining and the children off pursuing their lives, and my husband and me figuring out how to do this new stage of our lives together, I called my old therapist. And it was good.