If losing my mother was not enough, the other losses just compounded my hurt, emptiness and anger, not to mention questioning my faith. As I mentioned earlier, I had found a counselor and she, as sweet as she was, was not going to work out. I understood why she had white noise playing, to make sure our session was confidential but she talked so damn soft that instead of focusing on my grief, I spent my time saying, “huh?”. I asked her, I begged her, I reminded her to speak up but this was her ‘comforting’ style. She was a master’s student. I get that, but you also need to ‘get’ your client. After that session, I requested a new counselor, explaining my reasoning. The next counselor went over the stages of grief. This only irritated me because, had she bothered to read my paperwork, she would have known I was a counselor. But, I told her my background, that I was a counselor, ran grief groups, blah, blah, blah… She was another one who didn’t ‘get’ her client. The third client was a god-send. His name was Tony. He actually read my paperwork and the first thing he said to me was, “So, you know all this shit so I’m not going to bore you with anything you already know. You start. What do you want to process first?”I smiled. I liked his tone. His demeanor. His easygoingness. He was more like a colleague I would process the day with. This was going to work. He had me start a journal which I titled, “Yes, Joyce, it sucks…but there is still a Santa Claus.” With his guidance, I learned I was an emotional hoarder (a term I came up with), that I held onto too many emotions which only weighed down what I was already carrying. For example, when my sister and I were small, we shared a bike. It was her turn to ride it and I didn’t want to get off of it so while I saw her on the sidewalk in a stance to stop me with her arms outstretched, I peddled faster and the front chrome fender jammed between her first and second finger. She needed stitches. I was carrying that guilt with me for over 45 years. I called my sister, told her and she said she has a scar but honestly forgot where or how she got it. As I journaled, I realized there were a lot of stories like that. I carried too much with me which made current grief nearly impossible to manage. Plus, the numerous losses back to back did not help. There were emotions that came up from the abuse I suffered at the hands of my uncle back when I was a teen. I spent 4 grueling years in therapy when I was 30 for the abuse, did the work, re-lived the nightmares and felt at peace when I was finished with therapy. I knew there would be triggers throughout my life and was prepared to handle them. I did not know I still had hoarded emotions buried very deep within. Tony certainly got me through that. I learned it’s easier to face past traumas than the emotions behind them; guess that’s why they get so buried.
Once I started letting go of past emotions, current grief became categorizable. And that’s when the real work began.
Next week: Who’s loss do I work on first?
Until next time…
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