After ranting about my therapist and the process of personal therapy, I feel its only fair to tell you that she came up with a pretty spot on observation the other day. Just the 'one' mind you ... and I had to keep dragging her back to feelings as she was very keen to concentrate on the details of the story.
In fact I sometimes suspect she may be using my highly complex life story full of lust, betrayal, romantic intrigue, revenge and evil mothers as a basis for a novel. The eager glee to find out 'whats been happening for you' is disconcerting to say the least. Perhaps the old gal is using it to get her thrills .....mmmmm I shall think further about that one.
Anyway, she told me I was grieving. She is right. It was one of those light bulb moments when the truth hits you like a train.
It explains my sudden bursts of energy followed by lethargic slumps; the loss of my killer boot stomping risk taking sparkle and my bleak outlook at the moment.
So since then I have allowed myself to slide into the pit of despair, and boy is it a long, dark, bottomless pit. I have not set myself impossible tasks, I have wrapped up warm, wept, and done only the things I enjoy or have felt able to do ... oh and chocolate, always good.
Today I feel better. A lot better. Somehow the sun has shone today, and I have found myself thinking of doing a retreat or two this year. I printed off my essays ready for amending and have done a pile of ironing. Trying to put off grieving never works. Now I know I am grieving I can manage it.
So for that I say thank you to my therapist.
