The Therapy Booth

resting, doodling and holding love signs

Your Tender Hearts are Welcome Here

on November 29, 2012

As a human and no stranger to heartbreak and sadness, I welcome you to The Therapy Booth.

I’m feeling protective today, a little defensive. I have a friend going through the immediacy of a heartbreak, a right-in-the-middle-of-it-can’t-see-straight-from-all-the-tears heartbreak. And I feel protective of her. And of all folks in this moment of such storms.

You may find a picture of me on this blog, a few weeks ago, trying to hide under a rock. Crying, crying, crying, and fearful of the crying never stopping and the heartache never ending, I went to what I could for comfort, which, at that point, wasn’t much. A drink of water. A few drops of Rescue Remedy. A meal provided by a friend. A package of markers and a fresh sheet in my doodle notebook.

Wanting to speak publicly about it – as I’m a share-er by nature – but not wanting to be smothered with a barrage of well-intentioned lip-service-y aphorisms (or, as I’m now calling them, amorphisms), I was cautious of where I shared.

Recently, I’ve begun to write my story from right where I am. And I notice even my defensiveness and protection showing up there. Yesterday, in a moment of craving validation from my both long and recently lost sweetheart, I wrote:

As I write this, I have this vision of women out there reading these words and shaking their heads and clucking their tongues and telling me about what I deserve and don’t, about my value not being dependent on anyone or anything else. Well thank you very much and screw you for the moment. Let me tell my story. Let me tell the truth about my experience. Don’t try to talk me out of my experience, and don’t shame me. It is.

So today when I saw someone offer all the insights she’d gained from her heartbreak (a year ago) to my friend who’s right smack in the brand new middle of it, I felt my fierce protective mother element come up. To be fair, the friend offering the insights acknowledged that it took her quite some time to get there, but, gosh, I just didn’t want to hear that for her. My own tender heart too tender to hear others’ healed insights? Perhaps.

It may be a rejection of insights, overall, that I’m feeling into. I wonder if they are simply other thoughts that we attach to, that seem to fit and make sense when we apply them, and they make us feel better, maybe for a moment, but do we have to cling then to them to maintain them? Don’t insights come and go with the rest of the thoughts we have?

This recurring theme of being able to emote and express without being told that it’s going to get sunnier and rosier and more insightful and oh my gosh the dreaded gratitude that we eventually feel for going through it . . . I just want to come to my own conclusions, and, when I’m feeling wrecked, I just want some water, some doodle materials, my gut-wrenching longing for my man, a good cry, and a place to say whatever’s coming through, to have it witnessed, empathized, and allowed to be.

I have so much to say on this topic of telling it. It’s a message I’ve started to write many times, and maybe there’s more in the next post.

Meanwhile, I want to invite you into The Therapy Booth to be heard and witnessed. You can even send an email to tell.it.email@gmail.com. I will probably read it, and you might get a “/m\” in response, just meaning that you’ve been witnessed, and nothing else. No words of encouragement. No light at the end of the tunnel (sorry). No insights that I’ve gained from getting-over-this-or-that. Except maybe this. That there’s great value in laying our burdens down, laying our sadness down, exactly how it is, like a track in the studio, like Jack White or Adele or Joni Mitchell. Tell it all here, and you need not make any excuse or apologies.

Your tender hearts are welcome here.


7 Responses to “Your Tender Hearts are Welcome Here”

  1. Michelle says:

    Witnessed and witnessing. Thank you.

  2. Monica Roy Chowdhury says:

    Witnessed…cried too.

  3. deena says:

    thank you… /m\

  4. Paula Sharaga says:

    You are an amazing writer. I can find the place in me where we feel as one.

  5. deena says:

    i love you… <3

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