Client Grief - Session 3

(Beep. Music fades in.)

You find comfort in the silence, don’t you? I get it. I’ve never experienced it, myself, but I can understand. I can understand the appeal when silence brings peace. A pause to the chaos. 

External chaos, let me clarify. There are different types of chaotic forces in life. The human experience is marked by its complexities, by the many different forces at work, and the many different ways we have to manage and navigate them all. What works in one context may likely not work in another. You know that now. You are learning that lesson in a very… (sigh) hands-on sort of way.

  And that is difficult, isn’t it? You already have so much going on. And that’s the problem. That’s… well, that’s the starting point to that thought. The step before the one I led with. And apologies for that misstep, that hesitant leap that caught you off guard and left you uneasy on your feet. 

I had my reasons for doing it that way. I saw the walls you had built up around yourself. They locked me out as well. Not just your partner. But I suspect that was the intention, was it not? I suspect you wanted to take a broad brush to this, to this crowd of people waiting just beyond the corner of your eye for you to see us. To speak to us. 

(Music fades out)

And it’s quite the crowd, you know. But that was the whole point of locking yourself away, of turning away. You didn’t want to know. You couldn’t handle knowing. Or you could handle it. It would just be easier if you didn’t. If you looked away. If you hid. 

(New music fades in)

I understand why you think that way. I really do. This is not me passing judgment. This is me doing what I’ve always done. Telling you what I see. What I know to be true, even if it’s something you’ve tried to hide. 

Does it make you feel better that it’s me telling you these things? That it’s not your partner, I should say. Because what does it matter if you lose my esteem? 

The stakes are lower, you want to say, but you don’t know if that’s true. They might not be lower. They might be to the same degree of severity, but this is a loss you can handle suffering. You don’t care about me like you do her. And that’s fine. That’s how it should be. You want a life with her. You want an end to whatever this is with me. 

I understand that. No offense is had. 

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

I see someone in distress. And that doesn’t surprise you. Lately, you’ve been aware of how poorly you’ve been hiding your distress. Lately, you’ve realized the shut door hides the sight of your crying, but it does nothing for the sound which seeps through the cracks and reaches her. You also have learned that the door eventually opens, and she will see the tear-tracks lingering beneath your swollen eyes. 

You know the facade is temporary and cursory. You know there are faults. You are not surprised that I see them given…. Everything about me. But it’s more than that. Because I don’t just see the tears. I see the way you’ve tried to cope. I see the way those tried and true methods have failed you. I know why you close the door. You are hiding. I know why you hide. 

On one hand, the act of withdrawal doesn’t seem advisable. People removed from the situation tell you not to do that. People in the situation tell you not to do that, but you can’t help it. They don’t know what you know. They don’t know all the times it worked for you. 

Silence, solitude, those things can be invaluable to you. They have been invaluable to you in the past, historically, especially when you find yourself awash with sadness. Because you have been sad before. It was not this exact sadness, but it was the same intensity. It was the same sort of tumultuous storm. A few stray drops start to fall more frequently and more roughly until it is beads of hail flowing from your eyes. Its winds thrash you about as they sucked air out of your lungs. You are suffocating. You are drowning. You are being beaten to and fro. You know this feeling. That is not a good thing, per say, but it is true. You know this specific sort of suffering. 

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

Before you met her, withdrawal was your usual method of coping. You tried to hide from the storm, or the worst of it. You would try to lock yourself away until the chaos around you began to settle. It was a childish sort of reaction, you called it. Fight, flight or freeze, and you always chose flight. Your growth spurts came to you late. And so, you were much smaller than your peers for quite a while. Trouble on the playground with a bully? A frequent occurrence, but despite that, you never developed a better strategy than to run. And look, power to ya. That made perfect sense, but those habits die hard, don’t they? If they ever do at all. 

You thought they did, of course. When you met her, you stopped running. You didn’t need to anymore. You weren’t the scared child you once were. You were an adult now, and she was your rock, the foundation you had never had in childhood. So you leaned on her. You ran to her. 

So nothing really changed, did it? The destination was just closer to the spot where the eye of the storm would rise up. It was closer but safer. And it was shelter. It was safety. She was safety.

You flinched when I said “was.” I know. But what am I to say? This is not your choice, but it’s not mine reither. This is the trial you find yourself in. This is what you are hiding from. But you can’t hide forever. It isn’t doing anything for you. 

(Music fades out. Beep.)

The Oracle of Dusk is a production of Miscellany Media Studios with music licensed from the Sounds like an Earful music supply. It was written, edited, produced, and performed by MJ Bailey. And if you like the show, tell friends about it or the quasi-friends that are still on your social media feeds because social norms evolved before words did, am I right?