I'm interrupting my study to jot down how I'm feeling right now, as part of listening and honouring my needs. MH texted me that Clyde has not been feeling well and has cancelled supervision with her twice due to health reasons. This made me instantly anxious and worried. I just saw Clyde last Thurs for supervision and I was acutely aware of how much he has aged when I saw his neck (the neck is a very telling place to assess signs of ageing!). Coupled with the fact that he has been increasingly using the washroom during our meetings, I was already feeling concerned for him. Today's text just sent my anxiety off the roof.
I prayed for him and tried to focus on my readings but it was so hard to focus. Ironically, I was reading about our executive functioning systems from a book by Louis Cozolino, Drulis and Trissler (Executive Functioning and Psychotherapy: The New Neuroscience of Adaptive Intelligence): How ES1 (our salience network that helps regulate our emotions) would inhibit ES2 (the system responsible for problem-solving, planning, etc) and ES3 (our default mode network that helps us reflect and be reflexive, dream and imagine possible futures), which was actually happening to me right now.
I decided to stop reading and connect with how I feel: sadness and grief when I anticipate losing Clyde. I allowed my tears to flow and connected with that 5/6 yr old part of me who was the one feeling sad and grieving (it was like the separation anxiety she felt when she was dropped off by mum at Kindergarten or Nursery - now I'm aware after penning these down). Minutes ago, I speed-rushed my attempt to connect and attune to this 5 yr old part but she still needs my attention, it seems.
Clyde is the one, aside from Hun, that understands me most (not even my parents). He is the one who taught me to attune to my self-states; to listen and trust myself. He is also the one who gave me courage to take the leap to private practice and who believed I could do it. At that time, it felt like I was "burning the boats." I looked up the phrase, since so many podcasters have been using it recently. It originated from historical military tactics where Hernán Cortés burnt all his boats during the Spanish conquest of the Aztec Empire in 1519 to ensure his men had no other options and could only look forward. It means absolute commitment to what one has set out to do, eliminating all options to retreat/surrender aka no turning back for me when I go to private practice, no Plan B (actually I think I still do. I can always go back to full-time employment if private did not work out).
Now, almost 4 yrs later and I'm still in private practice. While I can't say I love every moment of it, I would say that it has opened up so many areas of personal and professional growth for me that it's wild to ever consider activating my Plan B. So at this point, I'm "burning my boats" but from a different space and resolve. I'll do whatever it takes to NOT go back to full-time employment, unless unexpected circumstances come up and prompt me to do so. Even then, activating Plan B would still be akin to pushing the button on nuclear war.
I digress.
It is also largely to Clyde's credit that I can sustain in private for so long. He has a way of correcting and addressing areas where I fall short and can still improve in a tactful way; not saying that it doesn't hurt when he reflects that but he doesn't do it in a judgy or critical way. He also confronted me to address personal areas (like keeping dad's cheating a secret from moom) which were so hard to do but when I did, it freed up so much emotional-psychological space within me, which also impacted how I can better relate to clients, especially those with betrayal trauma.
He is the father figure that I never had (or I thought I had until my dad betrayed me and my beliefs of him being my hero crumbled). I'm glad I got to tell Clyde how I felt losing him, although it was embarrassing of me to do so. He told me that loss is an inevitable part of life and that until "the Old Man" wants him, he will continue doing the work. Having said this, it doesn't take away the sadness I feel at the impending loss. Even writing this makes me beat myself up. I can hear the logical part of myself saying "don't be stupid. Maybe he's just having a minor flu, cough. You speak about him as if he's dying." But yet, at the core of it, I know that this is my emotional experience.
So, to my 5 yr old, I'm here. You're not alone in your sadness and grief. You are allowed to feel sad; it's valid. But I'm here with you and I will comfort you. Whatever happens, our Heavenly Father knows what's best and He is in control. One day, "he will wipe every tear from [our] eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away" <Revelation 21:4>
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