Degrees of SeparationRe/Connecting Dots
During a session about a month ago with Lucy, she used a word to describe my feelings that, initially and on the surface, didn’t ring true to me. That word was “anger.” Then, a few days later, Gary repeated that word. However, by the time he used it, I had already dwelled on it and realized that it did ring true.

I guess my initial reaction is due to how I had a very limited view or definition of “anger.” I pictured it a synonym of physical or verbal violence. However, after mulling over the word and talking to Lucy about it a week after she first used it, I realized that the result of bottling up emotions and even the most minute sense of outrage accumulated in a manner as to create a huge but very undirected sense of resentment, which indeed is a form of anger.

By this point, I had taken ownership of the word and learned to recognize it and not to be afraid of it. Then, this weekend, I read back some of my posts and this one hit me like a ton of bricks…

Reconnecting to Music

There is no teacher
Who can teach anything new
He can just help us to remember
The things we always knew

Those are the last words of “Odyssey of the Mind” in Enigma’s third album, Le Roi est mort, vive le roi!, which I rediscovered last week after having set it aside for almost 15 years. It’s painfully obvious that Lucy, a therapist rather than a teacher, indeed got me to remember something that I already knew and had even written about not so long ago. Good thing I never dismiss her words out of hand when she first utters them!

In fact, toward the end of my last session with her, I expressed my sense of pleasant surprise over how my leave from work seems to have been so effective. Yes, tackling bit by bit the so-called “noise” has been a huge relief but, as I told her, after each session I mull over our discussions, especially what she said. To that, she nodded in agreement and said, “You’ve got a good ability at introspection, at looking inside yourself.” I know she meant it, but I also know that she’s figured out with me that a little positive feedback goes a long way, like the solace I found in not being declared “Just plain nuts.”

Reconnecting with People
I notice with some curiosity that, since April, I have had a strong desire to connect with people. I started with a few select friends; then, I came clean with my mother.

However, there have also been reconnections. Recall, for instance, the reconnection with Da Big Goof shortly after my birthday. In the few days afterwards, I reconnected via Facebook with someone with whom I went to the Université de Moncton — someone who, as it turns out, has been in Montréal for more than a decade. Later, when I felt the urge to find those old Enigma tracks on YouTube, I remembered the person who had unintentionally driven me away from that music almost 15 years ago. At this point of my life, the pain was long gone; it was replaced by a simple “I wonder what he’s up to these days” and I found through Facebook that he’s now living in Ottawa, doing roughly the same kind of work he did back then. So, I reconnected with him and we may meet up sometime. Finally, this weekend, I went to Ottawa and spent a most pleasant day with The First One — indeed, my first boyfriend when I was merely 17.

Reconnecting with Life
The Queen of Sheba called me late last week in response to an e-mail I sent her. She expressed both her joy and amazement over how I seem to be reconnecting so well with life. In turn, I expressed how I didn’t quite understand this desire I have to trace back people from so long ago, but I’m just going with it. I’m merely chalking up this need to being a byproduct of a period of intense introspection. It’s as though looking back provides context for the path forward.

Later this afternoon, I’ll be meeting with whom I’ll simply call Le Maître to start work on silencing one of those nagging sound bites. Here’s hoping it will only be the formality that it’s intended to be.

It may be a little simplistic, but I’m coming to the conclusion that I have simple choices: I can be happy or I can be unhappy; I can despair or I can hope; I can isolate myself or I can occupy my space.

Increasingly it looks like I’m choosing to reconnect, not sweat the small stuff, and simply get through the big stuff while acknowledging the evidence that shows that what doesn’t (and didn’t) kill me makes me stronger…