It’s several months ago. I’m waiting for my therapist to show up on Zoom, and I’m staring at the screen until she does. She opens our sessions the same way each time, but this time is different. She says she has news.
She’s closing her practice in September.
I sob. Guttural, aching, heart-wrenching sobs. Part of me is embarrassed about it. The therapist part of me knows this is an aggressively normal reaction to such news. Another part of me watches from afar, astounded that I am showing these emotions so freely to her.
I cry so hard my face is raw. We discuss how this news impacts our work together, how it relates to the issues we are exploring. She shares her hopes for me. The session ends. I cry more. A loved one gets me flowers to mark this moment, this loss. I put them in a vase. I take the day off work, and grieve.
We continue our work together. Every week we splay open my soul and she holds my hand as we walk through it, unearthing and reprocessing trauma so old it is calcified to my bones. She is fiercely gentle, ferociously kind. I get stuck in the mud. Lay down in it. She waits. I cry. She cries sometimes, too. I rinse myself off and we keep going, chiseling away at the lies and the fears and the grotesque impact of abuse. Shame screams to stay hidden in the dark. We carry flashlights.
There is an intimacy in therapy. It is one of those things that is rarely discussed in counselling school. Instead, counselling jargon is applied to our relationship with our clients. We discuss the importance of the “therapeutic alliance”. We explore ways to build “rapport”. We learn about “counter-transference”. It is clinical.
And it is. This is clinical work. But it is also intimate work. It is spiritual work. To let another person see your soul is deeply wrenching, wonderfully beautiful. It is impossible to do this work and come out unscathed, untouched by both the horrors and the beauty of this world. I know this because I have experienced this as the client and as the therapist. I have walked into my client’s souls with honour and mindful trepidation, just like my therapist has walked into mine. I have borne witness, just as witness has been graciously given to me.
So graciously given.
As our time comes to an end, I plunge a staff into the ground of my soul. I surround it with flowers, vibrant in colour and lush with life. Their roots climb into the ground. Dirt collects under my fingernails as I plant them, one by one. When I am finished, I sit on the cool earth. It is a monument to the work we did. A marker. A reminder. Here is where I was seen, and finally able to see myself. I thank God.
I know I will pass this monument again, for healing is not linear but circular. I will wander and grow and find myself back here. I will stare at the flowers and remember. Much of healing is remembrance. Remembering moments where we felt loved and cared for, remembering who we truly are, remembering who Creator truly is, remembering goodness, remembering our innately joyful childhood selves, remembering. Remembering. Remembering.
To my therapist, thank you for helping me remember.
A Benediction
As you wander the middling spaces of life
May you remember goodness
Witness it flourish amidst the pain accompanying existence
And may you find another who truly sees you
Who helps you brave the mystery of your own soul
And may you become more truly yourself
Each and every day
JOURNAL PROMPTS
Consider moments you felt seen and loved by another. What was this like? How did it feel in your body? What factors contributed to you being able to be vulnerable?
If you struggle to recall a moment like this, perhaps consider what it means to be seen and loved by God. If this, too, feels difficult, consider moments where you felt connected with someone and examine what created that connection.
What keeps you from sharing your emotional landscape with another person? What helps you?
PRACTICES
Practice observing the moments of connection you experience with others. What is it like to laugh with a stranger? What is it like to cry with someone you love?
Make a practice of bearing non-judgmental witness to your own experience, and offer yourself love and compassion as you do. You might do this by daily placing your hand on your heart and noticing your breath, journaling through past experiences from a compassionate perspective, or inviting God into the present moment.
Now for the round-ups!
Here are TikToks, posts, books, and other things I’ve enjoyed this month.
TikToks: this video of a service dog going to vet school makes me cry every time??, I have gone up the stairs like this my whole life, a mash-up of Black-Eyed Peas’ I Gotta Feeling and Hamilton’s You’ll Be Back? Yes please.
Miscellaneous Wholesome Content: this dog’s library of sticks, everyone who has ever loved a stuffed animal will love this
Books: Reading is SLOW for me right now (puppy life), but I just listened to I’m Glad My Mom Died1 by Jenette McCurdy and enjoyed her wry tone and candor. I also read The Little Italian Hotel by Phaedra Patrick, which was a light-but-not-fluffy read.
Watching: TaskMaster Series 15 on YouTube. This show makes me laugh constantly and is a great palette cleanser.
As always, thanks for reading this edition of The Middle! Feel free to share with someone you love, or subscribe to receive next months email right to your inbox.
Major content warning for emotional abuse and eating disorders.