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“The past.” I turn to look out the window. “Always the past.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No,” I answer, trying to hide the bite in my voice. I sigh, “But I need to, that’s why I’m here.” I look back at her. A small and understanding smile rests on her face. “I just randomly remembered when…he went to get me my favorite dessert after I had been sick for a week. Arroz con leche.”
I look down at my hands. My normally pristine and polished fingernails are now bare and my cuticles are picked so badly I’m embarrassed for anyone to see them.
Naomi waits patiently for me to continue. “He accidentally said, ‘arroz como leche’.” I feel a ghost of a smile flicker across my face before it disappears. “We laughed about that all night.”
Naomi smiles. “That’s a nice memory.”
“Yeah,” I agree. That’s all I have of him now. Memories. That reminder once more hits me in the chest and squeezes the air out of my lungs, just as it always does when I let myself think about him.
A few moments pass before Naomi asks, “What feeling is the strongest for you today?”
I think for a minute before responding, “Sadness.”
It’s silent for a moment. “Did you complete your goal that we set up last week?”
“Yes,” I say. “I exercised.”
“That’s a great form of self care. Ana. Good job,” Naomi commends. “What did you do?”
I take a deep breath. “I did some yoga.”
“Okay. That is something that brings a lot of time for self reflection, how did you do?” she asks tentatively.
“It gave me too much time to think,” I whisper honestly.
“Maybe next time you can try going for a run? Or even walking?” she suggests. “Put some headphones on and play music?”
I nod, knowing that I won’t. “I‘ll try that,” I lie.
“Okay. Do you want that to be one of your goals for this week? Or do you want to come up with something else?”
“I’ll do that. I’ll try to go for a run or a walk,” I tell her. She nods and makes a few notes in her notebook.
“Good,” she says, adding a few more notes before closing her book. “Today was a good session. Remember, it’s okay to feel all of these emotions that you’re feeling. Grief and healing isn’t always linear. We aren’t working on a timeline with the end goal being that you’re healed and better. Grief does not unfold neatly or the same for everyone. It is like a rollercoaster, with highs and lows, with progress and setbacks. You go forward, and sometimes you go backwards.” I nod along with what she is saying. “Sometimes the grief doesn’t get smaller, we just learn to grow around it.”
I know that what she is saying makes sense in my head, but the words feel empty and pointless in my heart. She continues, “We’re working on recognizing what feelings need what actions, expressing those feelings, and understanding that we will have good days and hard days. But most of all, right now we are working towards you knowing and believing that you are not alone.”
“Okay,” I breathe.
We wrap up the session and I zone out as I make my way out of the building and towards my car in the parking lot. A small breeze breaks through the sticky end of summer heat and tickles my arms. I focus on my steps as they rhythmically hit the cracked pavement until I get to my car. I sit and close the door before I grip the steering wheel hard, trying to take deep breaths. My breathing turns shaky, a common after effect of a therapy session. I always feel a little bit more raw, ripped open, and vulnerable on Thursdays.
I close my eyes and lean my head back on the headrest. I feel the traitorous tears build and escape as they run down my cheeks.
I jump slightly as my phone rings, before a small involuntary smile finds its place on my lips.
Madeline.
I don’t even need to check the caller to know who it is. Digging through my purse, I find my phone and pull it out to answer.
“Hey, Maddie,” I say softly.
“Hi my beautiful best friend,” she says, her familiar voice filling the cracks in my heart. “I have Thai food, and we’re already on our way over to your apartment.”
“Okay,” I sigh. “I’ll see you soon.”
