I Hope You Have A Good Therapist

I just got home from seeing my therapist, Allie. I’ve written about seeing her before, but never alluded directly to my visits or the epiphanies that I’ve had with her over the last 6 months. I’m sure a lot of people’s first or second thoughts in considering what I was facing in all of this were probably along the lines of, “I hope he’s got a good therapist…” Well, yes, I do, thank you very much.

I felt sketchy as soon as I got in the car this morning. My days have been difficult as of late, going from one extreme to the other. I’ve been doing a lot of “pushing through things,” carrying the weight of the world on my back for a long time, but I hit the road for my hour and fifteen-minute drive down I-75. Yep, I drive an hour and fifteen minutes to see her. She’s that good.

I’ve written previously about how music has been a vessel by which Shani has communicated with me since her death, and obviously, a huge theme of the book Sean and I are writing is about mine and Shani’s connection with music. I’ve written about how Shani has sent me messages through song lyrics (as I type this, Crazy Love by Van Morrison is playing). At this point however, when hear something that seems to have come at the perfect time, or a specific song comes through, I’m simply comforted. It has become a common feeling that I now have about the interconnectedness of all things.

On the way down to my appointment, I almost posted on my FB status, “Mike to iPod, ‘You must have received the message to play the most awesomest playlist in the history of the iPod’s shuffle function,’” but I was driving, and I’m trying to stop texting while driving.

I heard Outshined by Soundgarden and Ocean Size by Jane’s Addiction. I also heard The Black Keys and Jay-Z. When Pantera’s We’ll Grind That Axe For a Long Time came on, I cranked it up. The whole string of songs was hard and heavy, uplifting, angry and funky, a little bit of everything. At the very least, it was high energy, and it kept me going for the drive down.

I knew I was going to have a lot to talk about after the last week, with my struggle to find a bit of stillness in my life and with my further exploration of my practice of meditation. I had become extremely OCD, an anxious mess, surfing the internet or training until my body literally fell apart. I haven’t been eating well, and my immune system seemed to be finally starting to tank.

With this blog, I have finally begun addressing some of my anger publicly, but with the call from the District Attorney on Friday, it felt like another punch to the gut. People can say things to me like, “That’s to be expected with the trial coming, no?” But, how does one ever get used to taking phone calls about the trial for the killer of one’s closest loved one? Sure, everybody deals with things in life that cause anxiety, but trust me when I tell you, this is simply something you never get used to. To say the least, I was fried.

I broke down in the waiting room before my therapist even opened the door, and when I sat on her couch, I lost it completely.

“I’m tired, Allie,” I started. “I’m tired, and not just in a lack-of-sleep kind of way, but I’m tired in general. It’s been a loooooong 13 months. I’m just…tired.”

I stopped for a moment before continuing…

“After having gone through the anniversary of her death, her birthday and the bond hearing anniversary in June and reliving it all…over….again, and now I look back? Holy shit. This is real. Like, this is cosmic crazy shit that doesn’t happen to people. My wife, her mother, murdered. Her father and son go to prison for the murders? C’mon…”

Of course I understood from day one that this entire situation was insane, but the more distance I get from it, the bigger the mushroom cloud seems to grow. There seems to be no end to its height. It doesn’t stop.

I told my Allie that on the way down I got a text from a co-worker of Shani’s, who is now a friend of mine, that if ever I wanted to crash, I was more than welcome to stay with her family when I go to Atlanta. It got me to thinking about a “Walkabout.” I had already been considering backpacking NYC, crashing with a friend for a night or two during my stay, catching some good yoga and getting some writing done along the way. I also already have plans to go to Austin, TX at the end of this month to stay with my old roommate, Adam, and then my dad and I are going to Chicago in August. I thought about all of my friends in Atlanta, NYC, Chicago and California that I would love to see and reconnect with. My “walkabout” seemed to be gaining some legs.

There was another important meaning I saw in my friend’s text, and this one came from only inside me. I told her that when I got the text, it reminded me of how isolated I feel, despite being around friends most of the time. I have spent most of my time dealing with, coping with, and trying to heal from all the craziness surrounding Shani’s death, the way she was killed, the shock of it all, the gruesomeness, etc. I’ve spent very little time actually grieving the loss of her, the person. And, now that I’m slowly coming to understand what that means, I am now missing the man I was with her. That realization is back-breaking.

She suggested that Shani was probably the only person I’ve ever fully trusted and that we helped each other heal, and then she said, “You’ve lost that connection.”

“I lost a hell of a lot more than a connection,” I retorted. “I lost her. The reason I keep getting these text messages and e-mails offering support from friends that knew her is because they know what they lost, and I know they can only imagine what I’ve lost as her husband. I get that now.”

At this point in the session, I lost it completely. I think I reached a place in that moment that I had not felt before.

I stopped to gather myself.

“Please don’t feel like you can’t just let it go,” she said.

So, I kept going, letting go of as much emotion as I could at the time, even though I knew there was some still there. I just wanted to come back to naming those things that were no longer in my life. I talked about missing Shani’s laugh, her presence and passion, how she carried me through the tough times, and how she put a foot in my ass when I needed it and sometimes when I didn’t. I told Allie that I was probably the only person Shani had ever truly been vulnerable with and how we experienced some pretty magical moments when we were both in a good place. And then I talked about how she provided the spark for taking chances in life. She supported me no matter what. She believed in me.

“I think you were right about what you’ve said in the past. When someone dies, and we really look at them for who they were, the good and the not-so-good, we come to accept them as human and see that the good parts far outweighed the bad, making you miss the things you’ve lost that much more,” Allie said.

“When Shani died,” she continued, “there was a ripple effect. Those ripples reverberated in so many waves, and a lot of people were affected. You’re at the center of it. Now these people see her in you. You supported each other, and that connection with her made you feel whole. That was where you felt successful and proud. You lost a part of who you are.”

I then talked for a minute about my blog concerning the people who posted things on the internet and how I finally blasted them, the media, and anyone else that was judgmental of Shani. I told her how I finally put it out there, how I finally shared my feelings concerning the made-up motives and the lame attempts to piece things together without complete information. I told her that I’ve tried hard to work through finding forgiveness, but that yesterday, I was feeling the very human emotion of anger.

I told her a few stories about Shani, and how, when she felt the need to speak up, she would let anyone have a piece of her mind. She could let a man have it in such a way that he might feel like his manhood was cut off, and she could get away with it. She was so attractive in so many ways that you could love her while she was reading you the riot act. And when she felt that strongly about something, she was usually right. She would get so frustrated when other people simply didn’t “get it.” Allie and I both laughed.

Shani had a presence about her that people adored. She was loved when she was a kid! She was Miss Catoosa County! Her high school friends loved her, but when she lost her mom, she took off and the scarlet letter hung around her neck. I now get it. That’s where I find myself now. I “get her” so much right now that I’m missing the things I never knew I had; or at least that deeply. She was my best friend, and she’s not coming back…ever.

“Mike, I’m so sorry for your loss,” Allie said.

Allie gets me. Thank God. She can say that in a way that no one else can. She gets THE LOSS. She gets the part of me that I lost, the love that I lost.

“Mike, when you experience a death like this, and you’re still early on in this thing, it causes you to look at that person for who they were, but you’ve taken it and gone inside yourself too, taking every opportunity to address every little part of this and how it affects who you are, and how you can grow from it. To do this with the mindfulness you have is much more difficult though."

“Some people latch onto things and lose themselves, which can be a good thing. Some hang onto the anger and allow themselves to survive that way for a while. They’re so engrossed with their grief that they allow themselves to sleep all day, or lose themselves in some other way, creating that environment where they can be ‘the child’ and not have to deal with any of the other stuff. And that’s quite normal by the way."

“You’ve tried to gain awareness about everything. It stands to reason that you would be tired in all of this and it might be a good time to get away. You really are doing a great job. You really, really are. Give yourself some time out on the road. Just remember, that if it’s too much, go and take your time and space to relax.”

I left her office feeling like I’d found some direction, even if it was direction with no real end in sight, even if there is no real landing point. I’m meant for a new adventure, another opportunity to grow and connect. It’s time.

I’ve been planning a couple of trips to get away and spend time with some friends, but I told her that that text helped me piece together the missing parts of this walkabout. I’m going to get out on the road with my bike, yoga mat and a backpack. I’ll have my journal, laptop and video camera. I may only have this opportunity once in my life. Maybe I’ll figure out who I am without those things that I miss so much in her, the parts of me that aren’t ever coming back.

Allie was all for it as long as I used the opportunity to connect and not escape, while maintain and even enhancing my awareness. She wanted me to do it while remaining mindful of the experience, to gain something from it. I explained that I was finally ready to plan it and get out. I thought I’d be able to write, record and sort through some things. The hope is to have good times with good people and come back a little more healed than I feel right now.

As I got out to the car and hit play on the iPod, Beloved Wife by Natalie Merchant came on my iPod. I have 9,300 songs on my iPod, and this is what came on? Here are the lyrics. You can watch the video on the right side of this page.

"Beloved Wife"

You were the love

For certain of my life

You were simply my beloved wife

I don't know for certain

How I'll live my life

Now alone without my beloved wife

My beloved wife

I can't believe

I've lost the very best of me

You were the love

For certain of my life

You were simply my beloved wife

I don't know for certain

How I'll live my life

Now alone without my beloved wife

My beloved wife

I can't believe

I've lost the very best of me

You were the love

For certain of my life

For fifty years simply me beloved wife

With another love I'll never lie again

It's you I can't deny

It's you I can't defy

A depth so deep into my grief

Without my beloved soul

I renounce my life

As my right

Now alone without my beloved wife

My beloved wife

My beloved wife

My love is gone she suffered long

In hours of pain

My love is gone

Now my suffering begins

My love is gone

Would it be wrong if I should

Surrender all the joy in my life

Go with her tonight?

The entire day came together in one song--the iPod, the theme of the day, and needing to hit the release valve became completely intertwined in that one moment. I almost pulled over out of fear of not being able to see or control myself on the road. It took me to the point where the rest of the emotion I clung to during my session was released. I sobbed and sobbed, finally grieving completely over losing Shani, my truly better half. I also had the realization that no one can possibly ever know what I lost in her as her husband, but they know what they lost and for them that is enough. How she died doesn’t matter. What people did after her murder doesn’t matter. My best friend, and the one person I trusted in this world with everything, “my beloved wife,” is gone.

The sentimental crap about carrying her with me forever is all fine and dandy, but you know what? That stuff doesn’t hold my hand, rub my back, or smile and laugh at me. She’s really gone. This is grief, I guess. Pull the trauma away, the shock and pain over how I lost her and how my life has changed, and this is what I’m left with—a bare bones realization that the person I loved and who loved me, is never coming home, and THAT is more powerful than any of the other pain I’ve experienced.

I hope to experience new things with friends, both old and new, to let the part of me that is gone finally rest, and to carry the good stuff Shani gave me in moving forward and allowing it all to heal, to be a working part of how this journey has affected me. I need to go a little, or a lot, deeper and prepare myself for what’s next, while trying to stay in the now. I need to rebirth myself into the world, I suppose, and I need to learn how to do it without Shani.

When I head out, I’ll write when I feel like writing, record when I want to record, and post things when I feel like posting them. I hope to have some good stuff to share. Stay tuned…