tamarjacobson

It is time to find a therapist. It has been five
years since Buffalo Bob. When I left
him to relocate to Philadelphia, I had much to process and confront on my own.
I had reached an important period in my analysis, and encountered some
challenging and, even painful, self-alteration work. Much of it I explored with
memoir-filled reflections, as I walked through Valley Green by the Wissahickon, writings through blog posts and in my last two
books. I must say that I seem to have made peace with some of my toughest inner struggles, and now recognize them as the old childhood wounds that they are. They do not terrorize or shame me nearly as much as they used to.

But, recently, I am challenged again.  Indeed, the issues I am facing are making me think of writing a book called: "A Handbook of Guilt for Parents." But, while I set about exploring this topic and learn to make peace with my own enormous guilt as a parent, I want to find a therapist, who is able to accompany me and bear witness through it. For, at times the pain of my guilt is too heavy to bear alone. 

And so, I am asking friends I know and people I trust and looking around for a therapist who is not only intelligent and non-judgmental, but who has a sense of humor. I need to laugh when the pain gets too tough. I do not want to take myself or my life so seriously as not to see the joy and humor in it too. 

It reminds me that this past week I joined a group of people who work with life partner, for a scary Halloween gig at: Terror Behind the Walls. And terrified I was. Screamingly, roaringly, shaking with fear and sobbingly – almost fainting and throwing up with fear! In fact, I could not make it all the way through although I was proud that I managed all but the last section called, Night Watch. Life partner held me as I sobbed into his chest and shook with fear when we came out. All his colleagues gathered around to see if I was all right. And, then, on the drive home I started to laugh at the whole experience. I guffawed and shrieked with laughter, tears rolling down my cheeks once more as I realized the humor of it all – including my own horrific fear. I wonder if my old friend Janna will read this post … for it reminded me of how I might feel on a roller coaster ride. Which is how life can feel at times … yes indeed … like "terror behind the walls" or roller coaster-ing up, up high – then with whooshing swiftly, surprisingly, shockingly down low … 

I wonder … if I might find a therapist who will see the humor in all that – as I do?

A year ago at Mining Nuggets: Shedding the shame for good