Personal:
I felt like crying but I took deep gulps of air instead. My mouth was dry and the nausea was almost debilitating but I squeezed my hands into fists instead to center myself. The body was lying there on the bed immobile and listless. The breathing was slow and rhythmic, almost hypnotizing. I felt it fester inside of me; words bubbling and writhing almost like a noxious serpent eating its prey from the inside out. I wanted to let it out, release it and set myself free; free from the chair I was sitting on; free from the room that confined us, free from this emotional prison that I had helped build.
Everybody has a limit. Everybody is only willing to put themselves through so much agony until it becomes it a drug and the line between pain and ecstasy is blurred. “Boom, Boom, Boom.” It sounded like someone was knocking at the door. I wanted to answer but I couldn’t! I knew no one was there on the other side…I was so focused on how I wanted the words to come out that I have been ignoring the introceptive cues of my body. The pounding was just my heart anticipating the end; the end of us. The world was ending, as I knew it. The result would definitely be death. I would have to mourn it and be revived again.
There was nothing to do now but wait. I would have to wait and let the feelings pass; get my nausea under control so I would not explode. I would not touch the body, not wake the body. It had been a mistake, a mistake to house the body here in my room overnight having knowledge of what I had to do. There was nothing to do now but to wait, wait until morning because I could put the plan into motion and to the person what I’ve been meaning to do now for a while. Man, break-ups are tough.
Professional:
It was a deafening calm before the storm. Emotions flew like flecks of dust and debris lightly swirling in the air like a welcome dance courting the arrival of the storm about to ensue. She looked at him furtively as I tapped my pencil against the chart. Physically the room was still as a picture, but emotions were racing and the tension was palpable. It was now or never. The second to last session was upon us and she stole glassy and furtive glances his way. He looked nervous. All you can hear in the room were the steady inhales and exhales and the ticking of the clock that seemed to get louder with every passing second. We’ve haven’t left the room for almost 45 minutes now.
It was easy to see why she was angry. She had good reason to be. The question I asked had still not been answered yet. She fussed with her watch and as he unloosened his tie uncomfortably. I suddenly relived flashbacks in my head of the mere glimpses of fits of sobbing that she had, inconsolable at times as her mask of mascara cascaded down her face. The guilt in his eyes and he sat and watched. There were times where it seemed unbearable for him, as if the sofa was on fire and he was burning alive. “I’m sorry.” He said. “I’m truly and deeply sorry.” It was almost hard for me to watch since I’ve become somewhat emotionally invested myself.
I’ve seen this before and it is difficult to watch it unfold from the beginning to end. I had assigned them a homework task to be completed outside of the office. The first step to reconciliation is to have the two parties work towards a goal or mission where they cannot achieve without each other’s help because it promotes unity and negates differences, which the couple has accomplished beautifully so I had hope for them. My words seem to shatter the silence in the room: “So….with time, do you think you will be able to forgive him and move forward?” She took a deep breath as a single tear streamed down the side of her cheek. She nodded through glassy eyes and he reached out to touch her hand. “Good, we’ll talk more in your next session.” I said.
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