When we lose someone we love, it can be hard to know what to do with the things that remind us of them. When I lost my case worker a bit over a year ago, I never touched my soft lion and elephant again. I had brought them into an appointment not long before my case worker was taken from me. Suddenly they felt tainted. They no longer brought me comfort, but sadness, so I kept them out of sight. I only just feel ready to dig them out again now, after seeing this picture of them which reminded me of how sweet and special they are.

maggie

I realised that they are mine, they are whole, and no body can take the joy they bring me away from me anymore.

I think loving my lion and elephant again will be far better than getting another Ginny. Ginny, as I wrote about in a previous post, is the crochet otter my psychologist leant me when she went away one time. She said she’d keep Ginny’s partner, “Harry”, in her handbag so that she wouldn’t forget me. They were like friendship charms. She said it was normally something she’d do for her children, but she trusted me with Ginny and thought it might help. When I posted this to the “Clients Harmed by Therapy” online group I’m part of, a woman was interested in helping me find another crochet otter like Ginny. I didn’t know if it would help or make things worse. As somebody who brought me both comfort and pain, my attachment to my psychologist has become very disorganised. I decided in the end that I wanted to remove all traces of her from my life, so never took this group member up on her offer.

This week I made the decision to quit therapy after seeing therapists weekly for twelve years. My new equine therapist happens to share the same name as my psychologist. There were other reasons why I quit therapy with her, but I certainly can do without being triggered every time her name appears in my inbox…. That flutter in my stomach when I think it’s my psychologist, unsure if I am happy or scared to have contact with her again.

I am thinking of spending some time in my friend’s beach house again. Isak Dinesen, in Seven Gothic Tales, wrote that the cure for anything is salt water: sweat, tears or the sea. I once found the place incredibly healing, but this time it brings up some confusing feelings as the island was also a place my psychologist loved going to as well. I wanted to get as far away from her as I could, but I’m starting to feel ok with sharing the same holidaying spot. She can be mostly bad, but she is not all bad (I am reminded of the yin yang of life quote). In fact, her love for the ocean is probably one of her best qualities (can you tell I am still very very pissed?). I realise I actually possess most of the qualities which attracted me to her, and realising this is very powerful to my healing, as it’s like realising I already carry what I was searching for within.