CLient Grief - Session 5

(Beep.)

Life never goes how we planned. 

(Music fades in)

I’m sure you’ve heard that idea before. The expression I grew up with was a religious one. “If you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans.” I use it myself from timer two. Often or always without thinking. But now I can see that there are implications to it that I don’t like, even when you stick to the theology and leave behind the various churches and all their wrongdoings. That expression makes light of powerlessness and how daunting that can feel, reducing it to a punchline for someone else’s enjoyment. It ignores the hurt we go through when things fall apart. The struggle to make sense of it. The self-doubt and blame. All of those things. 

The subservience isn’t ideal either, but you know, I don’t think either of us want to talk about that. It’s the emotions we need to talk about, the storm you find yourself in, that will linger when I leave you. 

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

Because yes, I will leave you. This is it. This is the final session. Does that surprise you? You can admit that it does. That somehow, you thought this would be longer, that you would be the exception somehow. Not because you’re special. You don’t think you are. You don’t think you deserve more of my time than any of my other clients have gotten. 

It’s just that your problem seemed more complicated, right? That’s what you think. There were layers to it, you can admit. First it was the failed proposal, the engagement that never was. There was the shock of it all. The initial rumble that shook you and nearly broke you. Then was the problem with even acknowledging that you were hurting, admitting to the pain before you could speak it aloud. 

Then there was the need to have a conversation with your partner. Being vulnerable with her after the heartbreak wasn’t easy. It felt almost impossible after everything. Trust is the sort of thing that’s hard to resurrect, to muster, or to recreate. Worse yet, you still did trust her. In a different way, you thought, trying to make sense of a contradiction that was suffocating.

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

But even still, it wasn’t the sort of thing a conversation could fix. You walked away from that first attempt with a pained optimism, with something inside of you screaming to give up and walk away. You don’t know what to do about that voice.

It doesn’t sound like you, you want to say. It’s saying words you don’t believe, you want to add. But it’s hard to say those things. Because it is your voice–or a version of it–and there is a part of you that worries about such things. You don’t believe it. You can’t believe it. Or should I say, you can’t let yourself believe it. It’s a matter of survival. You cannot let go of the life raft no matter how likely it is that hypothermia will get you first. No matter what you cannot let go. You will not let go.

And now you’re thinking of her, your partner. And you laugh at my observation, but you aren’t sure why you’re laughing. It’s out of surprise, you think, you’re surprised I noticed or would make mention of it. Or it could just be the expulsion of energy. It’s a pressure valve whose build up you have to release before you burst.

Neither are entirely wrong, of course. But that’s focusing on the wrong thing. After all, it is also a deflection, is it not? It’s something we can be distracted by. It’s the hook that ensnares our attention and leads us elsewhere. We shouldn’t think about the laugh. We should think about what came before. The need that is linked to her. 

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

You never doubted that you needed her, you want to say. But then you stop yourself because you don’t know if that’s really true. You may have doubted that. Once again for your sake and only for your sake. You had questions you didn’t want to answer. Did a broken proposal guarantee a broken relationship? You thought so. You worried it did. And once the thought entered your mind you couldn’t shake it. 

Would this be the end, you still wonder. You don’t want it to be.

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

And that’s a lot but it’s not everything, is it? This is where I lose you. You want everything. You have always wanted everything. You had dreams of the idyllic domestic life that you saw around you, painted on the outside of other’s homes, as you would describe it. Because, from your perspective, everyone around you had perfect marriages, perfect families, homes in which love flowed without hindrance or issue. But it was all a pretense. And you were just a child, so it was easy to fool you. But you were just a child who wanted that. It wasn’t what you had. You didn’t have love like that. And the grass didn’t just look greener. It was greener, technically. It wasn’t neglected. 

And you were neglected. In the absence of love at home you had to learn a new language for such a thing. One that mixed silence and grandeur. One that wasn’t sustainable, was it? You found the pitfalls the hard way. 

You need a new language now, one that actually works, one that will always work. But that’s not something I can help you with. You have to find this on your own. Or with the people immediately around you, of course. I’ve gotten you where you need to be that. The next steps won’t be so hard. 

(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?