This Is It...

With a heavy heart I sit across the couch. A heart still aching, still mourning loss, still wondering if it could have been different if I could still stay the same. But I have a job to do and the lady on the recliner next to me dwells in thoughts, is lost to memories. I gently cough letting her know of my presence. She sits up and tries to compose herself. Obviously she is here because she needs help, because she prefers to listen to the advice of a so called specialist. But she knows her life better, has seen and experienced it firsthand. Then why does she need me. Can’t she think objectively and sort her own issues out. Is she confused whether to listen to her mind or sway in the direction her heart takes her? Why does she need to pay a complete stranger for hearing her out? My own job makes me look like an opportunist, feeding off the weakness of others, sneaking into people’s private lives and pretending to be a master solution provider. But it is my job and today I cannot escape it.  This woman looks pale, eyes red and moist; obviously she has cried herself to sleep a couple of nights. She seems to have been hurt, a feeling I identify with. I finally break the silence

Me : Hello Lisa. I am sorry to have kept you waiting.

Lisa : That’s okay.

Me : Tell me Lisa, what is it that is bothering you.

Lisa : (She breathes in…. and then forces out all that has built up within her) Me, I think I am not capable of keeping relationships. I feel I love too much, give too much but I do feel I need to be loved too. Is it wrong to expect the same love and care in return? Why is it that love changes? Why can’t both work towards keeping the relationship alive? Why is it that if I want to be part of his life, I am needy and insecure? I love to be pampered too, be on the receiving end of surprises, to be his one and only. Why am I to always be available and can never expect a soulful conversation? I don’t want fancy dinners or expensive gifts. Why is love all about the newness, the adventure and not about commitment and responsibility? (She breaks down)

(I am taken aback. The same question, the same war within that I have been battling. I feel like my voice is lost.  I want to let go and tell her that she is not alone. But I can’t. I am bound by a profession that doesn’t allow me to attach emotionally to my patient. But If I do, I will be stripped naked, be vulnerable, vulnerable to her judgement of me and whether I am capable of helping her. I try hide, to be rational. I look at her as an observer and help her through this phase. A phase – This is it.)

Me: Lisa, May I ask you a few questions?

(She looks up with a relief that her break down has allowed her a release to her feelings locked up deep inside her but she is probably pondering, wondering whether she came here for questions or for answers to her confused state. She nods but her body language shows resistance)

Me : When you loved, you loved selflessly. Then are you upset that the same was not returned to you in the way you wanted it? Why did you expect someone to love you when that someone has every right to decide about their lives and who they would like to be with? Why did you let go of yourself when the only person who can keep your life and happiness together is you? Remember the choice is always yours. When was the last time to spent time for you? Did something exciting? Engrossed yourself in your favourite book? Danced to music that touched your soul? Made time to head to your favourite getaway? Did things that truly make you happy? All you are feeling right now is passing phase. It is all temporary, the pain, the hurt, the loneliness. It will last only till you hold on. Let go. Let time do the healing.

(She is speechless. She has made her man her whole world. Nothing beyond him has room in her life anymore. She lost the person she was and yet her eyes shined like all was found. It seems a realisation has dawned, like all her questions no longer haunt her. The relationship she gave her life to ceased because she as a person ceased to exist. Her man loved her warmth but could never secure her with his love, shared his dreams but did nothing to help her fly, touched her body but never caressed her soul. She stands, walks to me and hugs me with a smile. As she walks out the door, she leaves me there to wonder if she was God sent. I found my answers in her questions. And in probing her I found myself.)