Today, I went for a walk in the woods. Along the way I crossed a few fields, sat next to a salt marsh, crossed a small waterfall, and observed in amazement a large tree recently felled by a beaver, now leading into a river. My walk, which started under a cloudy and misty fall sky, followed a path of rectangular blazes, recently screwed into the trunks of
Becoming emotional, with tears trickling down my cheeks, my mind wandered back to a conversation I had with my therapist last week. I asked her about my recent bouts of uncontrollable sadness. Crying fits and emotional collapses had become all too common in the previous weeks. They were different than the ones I had in the past, episodes that I came to associate with depression: feelings of unworthiness, thoughts of suicide, and wanting to hide from the world. These new outbursts came out of the blue, and sometimes right after a very joyous moment. I was confused and scared. She turned the conversation to the plastic surgery I had this past summer and asked how I was feeling about it.
“You know,” she said, “it might be part of why you’re so emotional. You’ve been through a lot. I know that may sound obvious, but sometimes we don’t give ourselves enough credit.
“Yah” I replied, “it sure was ”
Expect for a bunch of photos, there’s little that remains of him and I wasn’t prepared for this, this emotion, this sadness, and this loss. But I need to grieve. So to fully appreciate the joy of finally being me, I need to say farewell to my former face, my companion, and my twin. Sorry, I couldn’t love you back, but thanks for carrying me this far. It’s time for me to get busy living, without you. Now, how do I find the way home?