Daring Greatly

I had my weekly cryfest today.  Why do we do therapy? I asked.  What's the point of coming in here every Monday and whining and crying at you?

She had several thoughts and questions for me, and the point that made the most sense was that we are hard-wired to be social.  I need connection, I need a witness, and it needs to be a witness to my real self, not the self that goes to work or meets new people or plays the violin.

You see, all week I wear my game face.  This week, it almost felt real.  I was out most nights, doing things I like to do, seeing people I like to see.  I folded origami and gave May baskets to people on the 1st, and I was productive at work. I heard from people, and all is well.  I haven't heard any news about D, but that's no longer painful.  I'm just as happy not knowing, now.

So, as I drove to the session, I thought, maybe I should call these off.  It's atually false pretence:  she's a Domestic Abuse counsellor at a shelter, and I'm just a middle-class chick who made bad choices and didn't have enough oil on my feathers.  My husband was not an evil man, he loved me very much, and I loved him.  His anger is treatable.  Another woman would have ended the agony years ago, and it would have been better for everyone involved.

In a word, I was part of the problem.

And now?  I'm back in a routine.  I'm making plans for the future, trips and music and visits to hiking trails and spas and wineries.  The finanaces are in order, and I can start paying back the people who have helped me.

So, why do I spend every Monday with tear-worn eyes, incipient headache, flat affect?  What's wrong?  A few Mondays ago it was so bad I was dripping tears during rehearsal.  Thank GOD my stand partner was focussed on the Bruckner.  But really, crying all over my violin?  What's that about?

I'm going to dig into the new book by Brene Brown, Daring Greatly.  Subtitle:  How the courage to be vulnerable transforms the way we live, love, parent, and lead.  I'm not a big fan of bibliotherapy, but maybe it has some answers for me.  Or, at the very least, maybe I can learn to enjoy my weekly crying jags.