Thursday, January 17, 2008

through a glass darkly



I’m beginning to understand that memory is like a Russian doll, leastways memory that has been suppressed.

So much of what I (we?) remember seems to belong to someone else, as if I were reading about an alternate me in a novel. The memories are woolly, vague, assumed almost. So imagine my surprise when my psychiatrist began to unlock doors for me, onto whole dark vaults of specific memory.

Some are good, more are not - I’m sure I’m supposed to feel grateful but I feel rather as though I’ve been handed a box of spiders, and a key.

Apparently this is the way to deal with suppressed memory, suppressed grief, slowly but surely unlock it.

To be honest I’m not so sure.

I think I was happier mad.

7 comments:

Miladysa said...

I don't know what to say Fish...

I have been thinking about you and sending warm thoughts and wishes your way and will continue to do so.

Hope things start to buck up or I'm coming down there and giving your psychiatrist a kick up the old jacksey!

[hugs]

Amy said...

you would think they would wish you to make you happy - to ensure your return to their office- but apparently, no.

I'm not sure all demons are worth confronting. Although, true, some must be slain before we can progress.

I never took you for mad.....

Patti said...

Col I sure have missed you. I am so sorry you are going through some dark times my friend.

Stacy The Peanut Queen said...

There you are! You have indeed been missed.

Sounds like a very scary process, hon. Just remember, we're always popping in here and sending good thoughts your way!

Wendy said...

I have found, through my own sessions with couch folk, that many many tears must be shed, many bitter thoughts be re-lived in order to move passed them all. When I first began my sessions, I thought "oh my, what have I done." But I remained strong and forged ahead and I'm so glad I didn't stop.

Thinking of you. You are the captain of your ship. Your storms will pass. Keep strong and know you're being thought of with affection and compassion.

Daisy said...

Thinking of you Fish. Take care blog buddy.

Melissa said...

Mad or not, I'm glad you're writing again. And yes, I'll squeeze Kristie for you. I'll see her in about a month. Sometimes the memories we suppress are the ones we're not supposed to find. But then again, they might turn out to be the ones we learn the most from. I hope it turns out OK for you, Col.