Last night while writing my blog post, I fell asleep. A couple of times… so I cut the post short and in doing so, I forgot to tell you how it all ended!
After the last “pass”, Darlene asked if I wanted to work on it some more. I couldn’t though. I was so drained. I confessed that the second half of the time I didn’t even have a single thought. I needed all of my energy to just follow her hand.
“Ok, well, let’s get you across the bridge at least”.
I guess this is how all sessions end. Going over a bridge and towards a fountain.
So I imagined myself on a cobblestone bridge, holding my therapists’ hand. We walked cautiously forward. About half way across, I let go of his hand and bolted the rest of the way, without even looking back. I was about 6 years old and at the fountain we used to visit when we went to grandma’s house. I started to laugh and splash in the water that changed colors. Almost immediately I saw Natalie. She was her four year old self and transparent, as was our grandma who was seated on the bench, watching us as she always did.
At this point, I did have a lump in my throat and tears teetering on the edge of my eyelids.
I was torn. As I mentioned in my earlier post, I didn’t feel the same heaviness that had been with me all these months and I was afraid. I was afraid if I felt better, that was somehow betraying my sister. It hasn’t even been a full year yet, how can I just be “over it”? Isn’t that dishonoring her?
No one wants to feel bad but somehow I felt I HAD to…
Then I remembered a quote from long ago:
“Suffering is no proof of love”. Nor is it proof of loyalty or dedication or anything other than suffering.
My brain and my body are still at odds with each other, for now.
I expect that will change in time.
The thing that won’t change? My love for her.