Behind the mirror.

Almost the Solstice.

Imagine the force of the sun, like a bow wave of life drawn deeper into the earth. The sun, so weak, now unable to rise high enough to give us a day. Yet this descent rejuvenates the earth and in return some force from the earth empowers the sun. Imbolc is the first real sign in the quality of light that darkness is receding - a cold and righteous sea, hissing like a nest of snakes, pulled by the moon to the outer shore. Soon the light will return and the days frosted in silver gain a cold clarity. 

But for now, there is a mixing, a cross-pollinating, it is the solstice. Winter Solstice memories include knowing without a shadow of a doubt that my husband had begun 'sleeping' with her. So called 'flashbulb' memories; his body language, the taste of treachery. The feeling as of a blade entering my heart, and, how each time I asked for truth I was lied to. 

Still bleeding psychically from this wound, just eight months later I entered therapy. The rest is this blog. This year the journey through therapy and complaint ended at Samhain in the crushing emptiness of the backrooms, fundamentally I was at the lowest point, my very own winter solstice, so low I cannot remember any light. A few days ago I told another friend what had happened and she asked me if I regretted sending the victim statement?  

I don't regret any of it. If I hadn't sent the victim statement I wouldn't be over it. And I've learnt that because the therapist could not question the imaginary walls, ceilings and floors of his model of what heals, he would preach. Preaching is a passionate tone of voice and compelling arguments - to show the client how real the imaginary walls, ceilings and floors of this therapy really are. I'm missing out Factor X though...I so wish I could think of how to begin to find out what had happened to him to make him so cagy about transgression.

And if the client doesn't agree?

They are shown the door.

Or, in my case, my flagrant disregard for his desire to shut me up caused me to slip through the walls of my version of reality into the backrooms (!)

Reality also offers intrusions; experiences of non-human entities, of machines, but more often of synchronicities, and very strange occurrences and knowing's, which defy ready-made and trusted explanations. At the end of my marriage there was the poltergeist, and other odd things. In therapy I had curious visions and fragments of knowledge about the therapist that proved both accurate and true. And I have no testable explanation! Nevertheless, there are many ready-made explanations - unfortunately -  which become compelling when they are integral to a person's social standing, and their self-identity. This is where the therapist's often repeated ' but clients come back' came from, despite my often repeated "I'm not a client and I'm not coming back". 

So, outcome of therapy?

I've gained even more questions about 'para' reality, as a result. 

All in all, the falling in love with the therapist has proved to be...

Something of an assault course!

And an adventure in post traumatic growth.