Lazarus

It was quite a surprise when I met with my therapist last night.

“How are you doing?” she asked.

I smiled, thought a moment. “Really well, actually. Really freaking well. Something just clicked in my head, and so much makes sense now.”

I talked about my newfound clarity about my failed first marriage, my excitement to be going to school, how much success I’d met with using the emotional regulation exercises that she’d recommended, how much solace I’d found in the books I’d been reading, my new writing project and how healing the introspection (or as my friend Fluffy likes to put it,  omphaloskepsis) involved in retracing my steps has been.

“I’ve never been happier. I’m precisely the person I want to be.”

She seemed genuinely happy for me. We discussed my relationship with Skyspook, how amazingly supportive he’s been about my returning to school and changing careers, how completely he believes in me and my potential, and how far having someone who believes in me  (especially someone that I respect so much) goes towards my believing in myself.

“And you’re realizing,” she observed, “that he loves you unconditionally.”

“I’ve never experienced this before. I’ve never felt loved. I was able to love other people intensely enough that there’d be some splash back, an echo of my own devotion, and I’d think that was it. But this, this is AWESOME. No WONDER no one ever left me. Why would they want to leave THIS? Being loved is AWESOME.”

She laughed and told me I was being cute, which incidentally is an odd thing to be told by your therapist.

She congratulated me on all my hard work and told me the difference between when I first saw her a year ago and where I am now is like night and day. She said that writing my book would be like a self-directed therapy course, and she had no doubt I’d meet with success. I’ve successfully learned how to be brutally honest with myself without being cruel about it, and I’ve learned the lesson she thought I most needed to learn: That I’m entitled to my own truth.

She’s said that she’s about ready to release me from therapy. We’re meeting again in 4 weeks to check in and make sure things are still going well.

I didn’t see this coming.

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