December 4th, 2003

Roman

sometimes it helps

Today was Jill.

Earlier I was thinking about my state of mind.

"How's your spirit?", Jill usually asks, so new-age of her. I was thinking that my spirit is in a low space. I have been feeling tired, worn out, irritated, not happy, pressured.

But I have been here before. I occurred to me that this is what I would say, that I am not in top condition but I've been here before and it's no big deal, I will get past it.

That's essentially what I did say. We talked about this and that and at one point my eyes started to tear up, and Jill, of course, noticed. We found our way through to where I felt I'd hit upon why. I was just with my children, whom I love, to whom I can talk, who drain me but also fill me. I miss them. I am with others now but none of them hears me. I can rarely talk of the little things that strike me, rarely can share any kind of "moment". I wondered why I am so often with people who don't have even a normal sense of connection, who don't respond normally. I wondered aloud if I attract this sort of person and if so, why.

Jill was careful to point out that it isn't that I am deficient. She said I have a "great capacity for intimacy". It's just difficult to find matches for someone like me.

She urged me to find time, an hour a day, at least several hours one day a week, to do nothing, to have for myself, just to be. I am going to try this.

It was interesting that I went there today thinking maybe this is a signal that I might want to cut out of therapy for a while, just knowing that I do know how to cope. And yet it turned out to be one of the more meaningful sessions for me.
Roman

sweet things

My kitty Stretch is a sweet thing. He likes to lie on my lap, soft and heavy, shifting with my moves, purring quietly. He found me, claimed me, and he's such a delight.

Tonight I watched Clean Sweep on TLC. It was a young couple, maybe late twenties. The organizer person asked about a box of old 33-1/3 records. The man said they belonged to his grandmother, and he had loved her and they reminded him of her. The organizer suggested that he consider choosing the most representative of the bunch to put on display, to remind him of her, and to sell the rest. You could see the tears in the young man's eyes. And I could also see his wife's tears. The organizer, Peter, said he wasn't going to push them to get rid of the records. He thoughtfully left them alone.

Alone with a camera, of course. The woman said, almost in a whisper, to her husband, "You know you can keep all of them."

There were other moments like this, sharing of feelings, and it was so sweet to watch.
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