letting it all...

as a therapist, i give out some pretty intense 'homework' assignments that require self-reflection, introspection, and honesty with self. most of my clients want homework (i think we all like something we're supposed to be doing that can be measured) but many don't ever do it (which is a therapeutic issue itself!). anyway, i have one particular client that argues with me every week- and not just about homework. my favorite argument was when i pointed out to her that she used a 'feeling' word to describe herself: 'client, did you know that's the first time you've talked about how you feel?' and her response: 'what? people actually come in here and talk about their feelings?!  people DO that?!' later she went on to argue that she did not see any point in talking about anything negative, and that she wanted to keep it all to herself- she could not see how getting her feelings out into the open would help her genuinely feel more free. 

her response was funny to me (still is, actually) but this weekend it really it close to home. i've been struggling with a past feeling that i thought i'd let go of a year and a half ago. it has come back into my head over and over and over and... well, you get the point. i have had so many weird thoughts, and while logically, in my brain i know with my whole being that what i am craving is not logical, there is something in my heart strings that just keeps getting pulled. the worst is that i've been dealing with a few of these issues for a long time: one for almost four months, and another for almost 18 months. if you ask me, i would tell you i'm over them both. for the most part, i'd be telling you the truth. 

and, i'd be lying. cause there's something still there, still lingering in my brain enough to keep the thoughts coming back, circling in, closer and closer. 

so i took my own (and a good friend's) advice this weekend, and carved out some time to 'deal' with these feelings- to sit down and 'take them out to lunch' as one therapist used to tell me. i sat down in a place in my room that i never sit- behind the armoire, wedged in between the wall and my bed. i chose this place because it felt safe and unseen- something important at the time. 

i wrote letters. my stream of consciousness poured out on the pages, and i said angry mean things, and i said sad, hopeful, melancholy things. i wrote of my boiling blood and my tearing heart. i wrote of the bitterness that sealed up my scars, and i wrote of the shiny memories i had left. i cried as i wrote- at one point i had to put my pen down and dry my eyes with the corner of my bedspread. the whole scenario took about fifteen minutes in total, and was interrupted at the end by my roommate's arrival home, but it was done. i was done. 

in both letters, to two very different people, i wrote about finally letting go.  "i am letting you go." simple words, really; words i thought i had said before. maybe i had. but this time, it meant something specific; i had experienced the months of subconsciously holding on, and now the idea of being free of this burden was something tangible, something i needed, desperately. letting go was not something i dreaded this time, it was something i wanted. 

so i did it. i let go. the feelings, the thoughts, the weird fantasies and ideas... i wrote them all out, i said farewell to sad mad mean compulsive unhealthy feelings. i said goodbye, for good, to two powerful people in the story of my life. i cried. i felt free. 

i did my homework, and i let go.