I have the largest monstera in the world. In my world anyway. Its leaves reach out like claws, claws as big as a sabertooth tiger’s, outwards. If it weren’t for our upcoming move, I’d be propping a crutch under its drooping arm for support. Instead of in the corner of the bedroom, I moved it under the window and directly behind me. The reason? Well, in my barren bedroom I’m using for my office it makes for a lovely backdrop.
I’ve been reflective lately. Just before turning on the last episode of Beef, I had a vision of a magician’s sleight of hand. The illusion of something happening that didn’t happen was a segue to something psychological—something about being human. But I can’t remember what.
As often happens with ideas I don’t capture in the moment, it’s gone now. So I’m left with just me, a blank page, and a curiosity about what I will write about instead.
I’m scanning my day and the various conversations with clients. Here’s one sentence to describe what we talked about.
Session 1: Feeling damaged and the constant need to be cautious.
Session 2: Spiraling and obsessing, but not knowing they could set boundaries with themselves.
Session 3: A sense of gratefulness for the ability to embody spaces and not put pressure on herself.
Session 4: The complicated mess it is to be human and learning as you go.
Session 5: Surprised emotions at how well they’re navigating tough situations that used to set them off.
With each conversation, I take away things. The first reminded me of how I felt in my late twenties and early thirties, specifically the brokenness I felt. I believed there was something wrong with me but didn’t know what, and didn’t know what to do about it. The second reminded me of when I used to feel overly panicked and worried I wasn’t real. Opening up to my friend Kristen, getting her support, and then stopping myself from thinking certain thoughts helped. The third inspired me, but also made me feel guilty for the pressure I’ve put on myself. The fourth reminded me of a friend whose mental health drastically changed who they were to the point I barely recognized them and the challenges with accepting this new reality of who they are. And the fifth, I feel like this all the time, like I’m impressed by myself when I do something hard, something I couldn’t do in the past.
Navigating their stuff and mine – sometimes surface-level and sometimes deep – I realize why I’m so protective of that hour of holy space we share. We are transforming together, sometimes slowly, sometimes quickly, but showing up and doing the work.
But I’m most grateful for the people I work with who, in their own healing, in turn, heal me. To that very special one (you know who you are), thank you.
Love,
Jaclynn
Going On 40 