I’ve been a deep well of sadness and brokeness lately.
M (my therapist) and I have a new “tradition” although I never see it coming. I’ll explain how lost, broken, and overwhelmed I feel and then she’ll say, “I believe that this is what you’re experiencing but I have to challenge the assertion that you’re not making any progress.” Then she’ll repeat back to me the little snippets of progress I’ve mentioned lately.
My own words, repeated back, surprise me every time.
And so does this sadness. This profound, debilitating sadness. Have I really been carrying this around for so many years? Where has it been hiding? In my toes? In my kneecaps? Where? And what do I do with it? How do I make the fog dissipate? I could find patience for the sadness for the first six or seven months but it keeps hanging on and I keep wondering when I’ll see haze lift.
I’m wandering in the dark, perhaps I’m moving in circles. It’s like I’ve lost my way and I have to trust I’ll come out of it, eventually. But I don’t trust. I question, I criticize, I feel like I should be over this by now. But M insists the constant questioning and criticizing is the barrier to progress, to healing. But that means surrendering to the sadness, to the darkness. It means accepting that this reality is my reality, that this past is my past, that nothing in the entire world can change that. And surrendering to that I instinctively resist with a compulsive fierceness. I’m afraid the darkness will swallow me up. And then what? Healing? Heavens almighty I have a hard time believing that.