I had a cool session with a mother and daughter today. Asking what they wanted to talk about, the daughter shrugged and the mom went for it straight as an arrow. Upright, as if a robot sharing its directive, she spoke as though she were forcing a circle into a square, and referring to her role as a parent and what they needed from their child.
My response? “This feels quite intense.” Immediately, she sat back, shoulders dropped as she let go, “Yeah. I know. I’m obsessive about this parenting thing, I’m failing, and I haven’t a clue what to do.”
Love it! What a vulnerable moment for her daughter to experience, huh? To the daughter, I asked, “Have you seen your Mom like this before?” Pointing my finger to a much different demeanor, tears falling softly from her face, “Uh, no.”
And it went on like that, a mix of vulnerability and revelations that made me feel secure in leaving early to go to the 6:30 Dino Show with Evelyn and Dave.
I love relational work. And even though I’m feeling one client’s hesitancy about having his wife in session, “Should I actually bring her?” I said the truth, “I’d love to meet her.”
Because I do. Meeting clients’ partners gives me insight into them and allows me to see aspects or angles they won’t show me. And I definitely see a side to their partner the client doesn’t share with me.
I’m filtering what to talk about, swiping right on topics that I feel wouldn’t interest you. Or is left? I’m not in the dating scene so who knows. It’s a different thing writing for an audience than just for myself. Or is it? I am, in a way, an audience of myself, trying to find entertainment and inspiration in my writing.
I’m to my writing like the cheer mom that sits in the front row, mouthing their lines and doing the moves. I’m so invested in the success or failure of a post, that I can’t stop to breathe until it’s over. Until it’s posted and the judge gives the final score.
Until then, it’s hobbling off the stage with a sprained ankle. It has to be complete, all the way through, a final shake of my pom-pom and the judge’s nod.
But I also want a bit of bedazzle in a post. Something that I feel connected to, that hits into my vulnerable side, like watching the one cheerleader on the end a little more closely because I know her little brother is sick in the hospital But here she’s competing. How does she do it? Those bright eyes, that perk in her step.
I have no idea where this cheerleader metaphor came from, but I’m sure driving it home. With stormy surges of rain and wind hitting the sides of the house, it feels like I am in a play, the wind sounds moving from the left side of the room to the right. I like it. It feels unruly and wild. In all the structure and knowns of my life, the recklessness all around excites me. Like I’m in the womb while my host is at a rock concert.
Rock on, yeah?
Love, Jaclynn
Going On 40 