My therapist was away for 47 days – or six weeks worth of sessions where I normally see her weekly. We survived. It was a very hard time for us.
Her return, two weeks ago was equally hard. With small, younger splits not sure and untrusting her. It’s been quite awful. Expecting to feel relief when she came back & almost the opposite occurred. We went into a bit of a spiral pattern.
This is my attempt at processing it…
She free fell through the atmosphere.
She lost her breath. Her heart beat.
Her stomach twisted and tears stung her face.
As she fell.
The parachute had been ripped from her back.
Fear. Pure unadulterated fear.
Then. She heard someone call out.
You’ve got another.
But she couldn’t feel it or see it.
So she fell. And fell. And fell.
Wham. She’s hit by the other skydiver. Tackled and struggling someone else pulls her chute.
She slows in the air. The pace is different. The fall is different.
The parachute is different.
But she is not free falling anymore. Her heart slows. Her hope returns.
Are you gonna jump again?
Her parachute is back and she jumps.
But she is scared. More scared than before and as it opens she clings to it, draws it near, lest it leaves her.
And she is suddenly tangled and hurtling to the ground.
Fear like she’s not felt before engulfs her.
Everything is wrong.
It’s not working like it did before.
She screams and holds on tighter but tries to free herself at the same time.
It’s not working right.
She thinks to let it go entirely.
And plummet to her death.
You need to let it go so it can support you.
She listens, and trusts for that moment and moves her arms releasing the fabric and ropes
And it arcs up above her like a fabulous wing and her free fall plummet slows
And she is safe again.