Mountains

Met with an EAP therapist on Wednesday. Not info dense, but a bit of pressure right where needed. She recognized me, and I remembered immediately that she was the one who spotted me as being PTSD, got me to the right therapist, doing EMDR treatment. She got to hear how well that worked out, which helped me as well. She asked me about my rage, and suggested that it was MINE, to do with as I thought best, mine.

Oh.

Not my father's rage that I was stuck with. This was my energy. This was my ocean wave, that could hold me up, push me further. I did not need to misuse it as he had. I could claim it as mine own, and use it as I wished.

Oh.

She'd put her thumb on it again.

I'd needed a small course correction, but it had to be the right finesse, could so easily have thrown me off in the wrong direction. She was the right one, again.

That I could tell her that she'd been right meant as much to me as to her. That someone finally pinpointed the right diagnosis, after decades of the wrong ones, meant I got the treatment I needed. Been doing so much better ever since. That the current political situation triggers me is coincidence. At least I'm in a place of strength to deal with it. But I am a little hypervigilant. The wave of "potential rage" now experienced as, MINE OWN ENERGY, can be soothing and powerful, rather than irritating and infuriating.

Wave upon wave. Wearing away mountains.

Working in the front garden today. Forgot how nice it is to have people walking by, saying hello, greeting dogs.

Played with chalk. Poppies are looking healthy.