With slight variations on the problems and crises, this could be a day in the life of any therapist …certainly has been true of me.
Some days, my ears hurt, my eyes ache, and my head feels as if it’s stuffed with cotton wool.
Sometimes, the days run together and weeks go by. I live in a fog of jumbled pain, unresolveable dilemmas, and heartbreaking tragedy. I have nothing left at the end of the day. Sometimes, Bill has also had the those kind of days and we exist together in the same space, each of us lost in an emotional wasteland, barren but for the feeblest spark of life.
Thankfully, these periods are short. Recovering myself is a matter of self-care determinedly done because it’s already scheduled (I am nothing if not a slave to my calendar!) and I go.
I am never sorry.
Bill does his thing and we come back together; emotional recovery continues in the joy and satisfaction we have in our relationship and the things we do together outside of our professional life.
I love what I do, but sometimes, the price of doing it is high. Really, really high. Occasionally, I wonder how long I can continue to pay.
But for now, I’m listening.