Transcript: Episode 361
361. Unwritten
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[Short piano piece is played, lasting about 20 seconds]
Today in therapy we talked about how much our previous therapist meant to us and how hard it was to leave. And how hard things were when we were alone once we did. that therapist that we have now understands more, differently, because we let her read the book. And she really did read the book. So now she understands too when we tried to say that things inside are not as things used to be.
My therapist said that she does not protect us. We protect us. She said that everything we need we already have. She just reflects back to us what's already there. And when things weren't helpful anymore, before, when things got unhealthy, we knew it. And we walked away. And we took care of ourselves in that way. That's part of what's hard about starting therapy again now, she said. Because the moment we start loving, we also start fearing the leaving that might come. It's a risk. And what happened before was a betrayal, not just a loss.
We talked about how childhood was hard, but I was only responsible for keeping this one body alive. But with the pandemic there were 10 lives depending on me. She said it was like a switch got flipped when Now Time was not safe anymore. And that the reason it feels like we're stuck now is because flipping it back on means processing what we went through those two years. And then she called us out, while the one specifically who was at therapy, a name we had not given her before, but one she recognized from the book, I guess. I don't know how she knows us so well. She asked us, how did we do that with NTIS the first time, learn that Now Time was safe. We told her that we practiced it. We wrote it on our hand. We looked for the evidence. She asked us specifically if we could use NTIS even with our kids when they are upset, if it could still be true for us. I don't know how she thought to ask that question. But it changed everything. We didn't tell her yet that it changed everything. We just wrote it down. She asked, do we feel safe even when the outside kids are really agitated or worked up or acting out? The answer to that is yes and no. No, because it's triggering. But yes, because there's someone to deal with that. She said it must be helpful to have someone to deal with that, and it must be helpful for us to sometimes work as a team like in that example. And I knew she was being sneaky to point out cooperation. But rather than give her any credit, I threw out a bomb because it came out of me, because there were words in me, that Emma herself has been gone for three years, since that day with the painting. Since we knew we had to leave the therapist, since Emma's top 10. That was her goodbye. And we have not seen her sense.
But Em, the one who handled all the practical things with the outside children. The one who could do the homeschooling the way she used to do appointments and therapies and all the running around in the van. The one who tried so hard to handle the pandemic. The one who tried so hard to handle the children when we lost all of our supports because of it. The one who was not prepared to parent six children with disabilities and trauma acuity and isolation alone on her own, like an inpatient unit, by herself for two years. Even then she still tried. But by the end of the two years when our grief was at its deepest, and we faced the death of hope that our previous therapist was not coming back, that she was not waiting on the other side, and that the friends were not ours, and that she was really alone. That's when we said goodbye to the children and tried to die.
Still, we did not tell her any of this out loud. But her questions made me understand them in our head. That that is when Em went away. When she was finally not enough. So while we said nothing on the outside, a lot was happening on the inside.
Our therapist tried a third question and asked, “What in Now Time helps it feel safe, more safe than it was before during the pandemic?” And still I said nothing out loud. Not because I didn't want to. Not even because I couldn't. It wasn't a time when my brain was shut down or Broca's area was turned off. It was one of those times where there were too many answers at once to get anything out of my mouth. What feels safer now? Vaccinations. But it being safe means also our family returning to public life, which only for me feels less safe. What feels safer than during the pandemic? The children being back in public school. Which is good for them and what they need, and they are happy. But for us feels like risk and exposure. What feels safer now than during the pandemic? Us being back in therapy. But also that feels high risk and like exposure. Being back in public, back in a chair, sitting in front of someone, being present with someone being present with us. Being seen is unsettling. Being known is dysregulating. It's an intensity that we avoided during the pandemic when the intensity was external instead of internal.
And because we still had not spoken out loud our therapist began to type. She said first this is the impossible situation. The pandemic with six high needs disability kids with trauma, our family isolated with no resources. This was the impossible situation, she said, when there was no end in sight. What first was supposed to be weeks became months became yours. And then all during that time our youngest daughter's health was precarious. And there was not enough. Not enough food. Not enough money. Not enough help. And no help for us. No respite for us. This was the impossible situation, she said, so many needs that we could not logistically meet. She said it was not that Em was not enough. It was that the situation was too much. And that is one more way it was like childhood. Because in childhood we were only responsible for keeping ourselves alive. But in the pandemic there were 10 people relying on us to function, to provide, to distract, and to comfort. Ten people we had to keep alive. Ten bodies we had to keep alive.
Our therapist said this reminded her of the Kelly McDaniel, Dan Siegel, and Wall of Terror episodes. That's where we are in therapy, processing those with her. She reminded us how in those episodes we talked about learning that when we are placed in a situation with no support, no comfort, no companionship, no nurturing, and no safety, with no way to become safe, then we do what we have to do to prevent insanity. Then we do what we have to do to maintain our sanity. She said Em went away to stay sane. She said that insanity is worse than death. And even the suicide attempt was an attempt to save ourselves. But that for Em the guilt of having tried to die and de-parenting the children was too much. And that's why she's gone.
And all I could do was type yes in the box.
She said that she’s so sorry no one saw us, that no one came, that the people we needed did not show up, that we were so alone. She said that she's so sorry the whole world failed us. And she said maybe there's space for forgiveness for ourselves. That maybe we, like the rest of the world, were struggling, doing an impossible thing, doing a really hard thing, that was so hard it was impossible. I cried then and we just stayed in that space for a long time, even after our session was done, feeling the weight of how hard that was. How dark those two years were. And sitting in the echo of her words. That maybe we had not failed. That maybe our circumstances swore just that hard. And we were alone in them.
It also tells me how hard things were for others as well and helps me understand, even if not excuse, that that's part of why they didn't come, or show up, or reach out, or connect, because it was that hard for them too. It also shows me why there was so much fighting, trauma responses in the streets, and why some left quarantine too early. Because quarantine was hell. And while it's good and helpful for me to understand and to have a broader perspective and to make sense of things, it's still easier for me to do that than to stay with the peace of offering forgiveness to myself, compassion to me, offering peace to Em who did her best in an impossible situation where she did not fail, it just really was that hard.
And so it took practice for days, weeks, of just holding my peace for her, for us, for the falling apart of circles in my head, for an attempt in my own life, opening space inside for safety to return again. And it came slowly the way winter buds on the trees show up for weeks before we see the leaves, and then one day you'll notice it's so green. And with the green come birds with their songs, and butterflies with their dances. And even in the dark stars and fireflies light up the sky and the earth comes to life again on the other side. And on the other side there are those who did try, who did not lose me.
And this weekend a friend came to visit. The outside children were shocked. It's not something that happens often, if ever, and certainly no friend since the birthday party. This was not a birthday party, only spring. And our friend stayed the weekend. And my children laughed. And we cooked food. And they did their chores. And our house was kept clean. And we got through the weekend without any major meltdowns, them or us.
And I thought maybe our therapist is right. That she's still here. That we're okay. That this brain and body has access to what it needs when it needs it. And that it might be easier to know what's going on if we start talking to each other again.
[Piano music of Natasha Bedingfield’s song Unwritten]
[Break]
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