Met with my therapist on Tuesday and have been trying to plow through my homework since. Homework. It still makes me cringe. She sent me home with a book called….
At first I thought she misunderstood why I was there: to prepare for the necessary and eventual loss of my aged mother. I explained the family belief that my Mom, Dick Clark and cockroaches will be left when the world ends, and that nothing short of a semi-truck will bring her down. But she corrected me and explained the idea that sometimes we have to let go of a lot, losses in order to gain so much more. I was game to take on a new reading project.
Dr. L seems like a level-headed woman. Though she’s not of my faith she seems to know what it means to a practitioner and is willing to work within those parameters. She indicated there would be things in the book that don’t apply to me, and I should just skip over those. She laughs at my jokes. I deflect a lot and hide behind my rapier whit….okay, these days not that sharp….but she laughs at my jokes. She wants to see me in a week and have the book read as well. I can’t color and write in the book like I like to do so, despite my financial difficulties at present, I ordered it. Mom is talking like she wants to read it too. I’ll have to be a little cryptic in my margin notes. {sigh}
I’m still a little apprehensive about going to therapy. The uncomfortable intimacy needed for healing is something I run from as a rule. I felt my anxiety climb with each passing minute leading up to my appointment. I tend to be a little bulimic about therapy. I feel if I can vomit out everything as fast as humanly possible I can get to the end and be all better that much faster. I have to keep reminding myself; there aren’t easy outs, there aren’t quick fixes, there’s no running this time. I’m in it for the long haul. I’m getting out of the void.
Blogging From The Void 