WHAT DOES THERAPY LOOK LIKE?
These are some quick sketches I made while feeling the process of therapy.
I come with a problem. It’s a heavy boulder I have been carrying around with me. Sometimes I know what it is. Sometimes I don’t.
You can tell I am kind of lumpy, not very defined.I am not sure what’s in this package or that I want to open it.
The boulder or egg gets heavier. It begins to crack.
I am holding onto it and maybe putting it down. I am beginning to see what is ins
ide.
My shoulders are still held high, but I am getting longer and more fluid.
It cracks apart. The contents spill out. They smell. It’s messy.
I am more defined, but also not quite here. You can tell because although I look curious, I am also see through. I get my first look at what’s inside.
The mess sorts out into different parts that I can pick up and feel. They are part of a common stream. They have sharp edges and can hurt.
I am clearly more engaged with the process, yet still not solid. I am looking, but not feeling. Trying to figure out what this is that I have been holding, but not admitting it is mine yet.
Sometimes it makes me feel like I am fragile and cracking. I can do this work because I know I am held and kept safe within the container of therapy. I feel seen with compassion and kindness which makes it possible for me to feel and see the hard parts. I begin to have compassion for these parts of myself that hurt.
I am holding my own cracking self in my lap, surrounding this part of myself with love and support for my own being. I am solid and fragmenting at the same time. Eventually I’ll come to the realization that all of this is mine and stop rejecting it as other.
I am learning to hold myself with care and kindness. I am held in my own darkness, in my own egg. Held in my own arms, my own hand. Held by the container of the therapy time and space and witness. Held in the hand of Spirit greater than me. Held until I am ready to move.
And here I am. Standing. I have not quite put down the boulder, but it has transformed into tangled lines from different places in my body. Finding my boundaries, standing between sky and earth. I feel strings of attachment to my past, to my present, to my truth.