Therapy for my Soul

 

Friday, August 27, 2010

It will be difficult to fully explain the experience I encountered this afternoon . . . But a simple term for it would be "therapy". The woman who worked with me today was not a therapist, per se, but she works at a facility that focuses on helping people find balance in their lives, both emotionally and physically, since it is believed that emotions can affect the body.

 As soon as I met Tania, I felt I could trust her, especially when she admitted she is LDS. I laid on a bed and Tania had me talk to her about Ty, my grief, my love, my anger, my desires to be pregnant . . . I discovered some important things about myself and the way I'm processing Ty's death. To say it was emotional would be an understatement.
 Tania pushed me to recognize out loud the immensity of the grief I keep trapped inside—that it is bigger than I realize; so big and hurtful that I never want to tap into it for long because it hurts too much. Way too much. I was bawling before I even realized what was happening, and she encouraged me to cry, to let it all out, even though I had felt fine moments before. We discussed the anger I keep running from and I admitted that sometimes I do feel angry, but I don't like to admit it—because it means I'm faithless and failing, and God might hold it against me.

Anger was a big subject. She asked how I deal with anger in my relationships. I referenced my fights with Dan: If we get into an argument and Dan apologizes, I accept it and I'm fine, ready to move on. But if I upset Dan, he dwells on it more than I do, and I feel like, "Come on, already. I apologized! Get over it!" My method of coping is to move on as quickly as possible to avoid negativity. But this grief and anger . . . it's a whole different story. They won't let me push them under the rug. Tania said emotions like these run so deeply in our bodies that we need time to let our bodies heal and recuperate. Mentally, I feel ready to be pregnant, but Tania suggested I might be expecting too much of my body—that the trauma it's been through needs time. And I guess that could be true. I wanted to be pregnant the day after Ty passed away. I've demanded it of my body ever since. But my body needs to heal and get through these emotions, rather than feel all the pressure I'm applying to do what I want.

I recognized that part of wanting to be pregnant is my way of shoving grief out of the way so I can get on with life and not keep feeling this pain. I'm trying to fill a hole, so desperately trying, and it may be backfiring. We talked about how my identity as a mother is very strong. I found myself admitting in surprise that I don't want just any baby. I want Ty back. I want to hold him and raise him and finish what I started. It makes sense to me now. When people have asked, "Oh, do you want a boy or girl next", I've always said, "I probably prefer a boy. Now that I've had a baby boy, I want to experience the rest of it." I haven't truly let go of him.

Tania talked about the idea that I'm carrying my grief in my womb—that in a way, I'm holding Ty there so tight and not allowing room for another baby. We discussed giving Ty his rightful place, to carry him elsewhere. I cannot recreate his birth (even though subconsciously that's what I've been wanting to do), but I need to make room for a new baby that is separate from Ty.

We talked about how I hold onto the pain to feel connected to Ty because that's what makes him real at times. Tania gave me an exercise to do to help me grieve for Ty, and to create positive experiences with remembering him. Just like with my anger, she emphasized the importance of "honoring what is" and feeling it. When expressing my guilt over feeling anger, Tania helped me better understand that Heavenly Father understands my mortal limitations and still loves me. He knows when I'm angry at Him, even when I try to hide and lie to myself. All that does is bottle up and explode. My goal is to be open with Heavenly Father, and to be honest with myself and realize it is part of this process of growth and healing. It's okay to ask for help, especially from Him.

In a two hour session, a lot can be said and felt. I barely touched on it all. Every moment I was there, I felt the spirit and a ringing truth in the air and in my heart. I left feeling lighter, happier, and with a bolstered attitude that "I can do this!" I feel like I made some ground-breaking progress in the way I'm processing all this heaviness. And I was exhausted for the rest of the day!

I returned to the cemetery early this evening, feeling peaceful and happy, and just sat with all this information for a while. I'm feeling hopeful again.