Surprisingly, EMDR worked. Four sessions i was going to ask the counselor to be discharged, as i was beginning to think i wasn't getting anywhere. It was at that session that it did.
EMDR takes an event that the person perceives as traumatic and has them think about it as they follow the counselor's hand, holding an object such as a pen, move back and forth. i think the back and forth has something to do with accessing both hemispheres of the brain. Some therapies use touch or hearing instead of eye movement.
i chose my event: sitting in KT's car that night, knowing that what i was about to do would forever change my relationship with the one woman i had ever wanted to marry.
Back & forth. Back & forth.
i will not go into detail about what came up, but by the end, it felt as though surgery had been performed and the cancer that is ExA was removed. That night was no longer a mistake, but an act of rebellion against a marriage, a person who didn't care for my heart.
Being a skeptic... okay, pessimist- i thought it would be short lived. Here it is ,weeks later, and i still do not feel the heaviness that lived within me for two years.
The other day, while picking up The Land and The Sea, i had a civil conversation with ExA, and felt nothing afterwards, no longing, no sadness.
The downside is now i know that holding back in my relationship with Noire has nothing to do with my divorce, and has all to do with not wanting to be with her.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Monday, July 05, 2010
re collecting
i have always loved music; one of my earliest memories is being age 6 and playing 45's on a tiny record player at my friend's house. I wanted to hear "Seasons in the Sun" and "The Most Beautiful Girl" over and over; they wanted to be outside adventuring.
For some time i have known that it is not just the aesthetic of music that touches us, but it's ability to capture an image, be a photograph. And while some photographs should not be remembered, some capture a time so perfectly it's sweetly happy, such as one i recalled this past week.
In the Spring of 1987, i worked in the visual merchandise department at G. Fox & Company, a store no longer in existence, having been acquired by Filene's. The job had come to me mostly because my older sister was the head of the department- what had started as a temporary job in the Christmas of 1985 had lead to a full time position, a good one given i was in college at the time and most of my friends were working jobs far less interesting. My job was primarily prep work, as i was not talented enough to dress mannequins or set up displays.
One of the tasks was to cut out Styrofoam letters to label the various brands in the departments: Esprit......Chaus......Liz Claiborne.......Guess.
The tool used to cut letters was a box that held a stretched, perpendicular wire that, when heated, allowed you to trace shapes around a plastic template. I was not good at using the machine, as i would often slow down, creating small dents in the letters. And the smell of melting Styrofoam was sickening.
The radio was on my favorite station at the time- well, second favorite; my favorite was my college's, WXIN, where i had a late night radio show, but it's signal barely reached a mile. Therefore, i was listening to what was at one time Brown University's radio station, WBRU.
On that Spring day, the DJ came on and announced that they had U2's new album, "The Joshua Tree," and proceeded to play it all the way through. The memory is crisp: bending over the messy work table that had served as the food prep table for a restaurant that was now the bedding department, my hair long and unruly, the excitement that came with hearing those songs for the first time, the acrid smell of melting Styrofoam. With it came my dreams of the time: teaching high school English, marrying Esme, forever going to small clubs to see live music.....the world was endless with opportunities.
For some time i have known that it is not just the aesthetic of music that touches us, but it's ability to capture an image, be a photograph. And while some photographs should not be remembered, some capture a time so perfectly it's sweetly happy, such as one i recalled this past week.
In the Spring of 1987, i worked in the visual merchandise department at G. Fox & Company, a store no longer in existence, having been acquired by Filene's. The job had come to me mostly because my older sister was the head of the department- what had started as a temporary job in the Christmas of 1985 had lead to a full time position, a good one given i was in college at the time and most of my friends were working jobs far less interesting. My job was primarily prep work, as i was not talented enough to dress mannequins or set up displays.
One of the tasks was to cut out Styrofoam letters to label the various brands in the departments: Esprit......Chaus......Liz Claiborne.......Guess.
The tool used to cut letters was a box that held a stretched, perpendicular wire that, when heated, allowed you to trace shapes around a plastic template. I was not good at using the machine, as i would often slow down, creating small dents in the letters. And the smell of melting Styrofoam was sickening.
The radio was on my favorite station at the time- well, second favorite; my favorite was my college's, WXIN, where i had a late night radio show, but it's signal barely reached a mile. Therefore, i was listening to what was at one time Brown University's radio station, WBRU.
On that Spring day, the DJ came on and announced that they had U2's new album, "The Joshua Tree," and proceeded to play it all the way through. The memory is crisp: bending over the messy work table that had served as the food prep table for a restaurant that was now the bedding department, my hair long and unruly, the excitement that came with hearing those songs for the first time, the acrid smell of melting Styrofoam. With it came my dreams of the time: teaching high school English, marrying Esme, forever going to small clubs to see live music.....the world was endless with opportunities.
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