Through a quagmire of grief
I found peace and a degree of happiness
In the spring of 1993, Karen Fisher, my therapist died. At that time, I'd written the book with a great splash--including receiving hundreds of letters from other survivors. My book had changed their life.
The problem was, I had lost mine. In my grief, that's how it felt. I felt that I'd lost my entire family, my lucrative job, many friends and then I lost the anchor that made everything make sense, my therapist. I felt utterly alone and lost in a quagmire of grief. Yet, I knew that there were hundreds of other survivors looking up to me, I gave them reason to live. To carry on, just because my life had collapsed didn't meant theirs had to...
My grief addled brain started thinking that it would be ideal if I crashed in my convertible Mercedes Benz. The top would be down. And, if I crashed just right, it could be declared an accident. The other childhood abuse survivors would still have hope, and I'd end this seemingly endless paid.
Before Karen died, she made arrangements for me to transition to a new therapist. A warm and loving doctor.1 When I shared my plan with my new therapist, she took away my car.
Then, she called my co-author and arranged for me to spend a month in Coronado, California. I had tele-therapy calls with my therapist every day.
During that month, I slowly pulled out of it. One of the key elements I did was find the joy in the everyday, small stuff. I spent a minute peeling an orange and relished the smell of the orange. I savored the gentle breeze shifting the leaves. I wrote about all the tiny things surrounding me. Slowly, I started feeling better. I vowed when I came back to my noisy and busy daily life, I'd stop for a few seconds, and absorb the beauty of simple things.2
Twenty years later, I discovered a book called "Hardwiring Happiness by Dr. Rick Hanson." Dr. Hanson details exactly how what I did in 1993 on the beach of Coronado actually changes or hardwires our responses, mental well being, and outlook.
Here is his Ted Talk about it:
Here is where you can buy his book:
If you are slugging through a sledge of pain, please try to notice something tiny that lifts your heart. Look for small things. If you've adapted this technique or something similar into your own daily routine, I'd love to hear about what works for you. Please leave me a note.
This doctor currently works with convicted pedophiles and has asked that her name be kept confidential.
My journal entries from this time are provided in Paperdolls & Cowboy Boots. If you are a subscriber you can purchase it at cost or free for founding members, here.