“Just this. Holding space for me to be a disaster. I’ll pull myself together for when I’m out there.” She waved her hand off to the side, lazily drawing a circle. “In here, knowing I can fall apart and show you how I’m really feeling means everything to me.” Her voice was low and soft, almost mumbling. Her eyes were almost closed.
“Let’s go to bed, sleepyhead.”
“Okay,” she whispered.
I pulled her up from the sofa, wrapped my arm around her waist and walked her to our bed.
~ 25 ~
Rona
I rested my head back on my worn leather chair in my studio. I wasn’t here making music though. I’d spent the whole evening sitting here thinking and journalling after my therapy session this afternoon. I’d been seeing a therapist and it was really helping. Her name was Alysa and she was a maternal figure in my life already. Her kind eyes and warm presence did something to me, but I wasn’t sure what. I went every Tuesday at two. I felt so seen, heard, and understood. But it was hard. I went there initially for help with my fears around putting myself out there as a solo artist and how to be less needy in my relationships. But we’d ended up exploring my childhood and identifying times when I’d felt neglected and abandoned by my parents. I resisted going there with her at first, but the more I did, I explored that with her too and realised it was important not to ignore it and pretend it was all rosy. I was happy with the direction we’d taken, even though it was difficult at times.
“It all comes back to learning how to love yourself,” she’d said, after I’d meticulously laid out all of my faults, shortcomings, and fears.
“What do you mean?” I’d asked.
“Think about it like this. There’s a little version of you inside yourself, your child self who didn’t get what she needed. Can you find her and accept her for who she is? What does she need? Can you understand her strengths and weaknesses and love her anyway? Can you have empathy forher? Only you can give yourself the love that she needs. No one else can do this for you.”
I’d sat there, provoked, not knowing what to say. I sat here now, staring at her questions in my journal that I’d written down, still thinking about the answers as I fiddled with my pen.
Today’s session was particularly illuminating. I’d told her all about my music career and what I’d been struggling with, and of course, my relationship with Lily. I’d told her how I was feeling overwhelmed already by the instant success of the album. I’d hosted a small launch party and I’d done some very basic promotion, so the avalanche of downloads, plays, sales and attention was equal parts incredible and terrifying.
I was trying so hard to lean into the fact that people were enjoying listening to my music, rather than the fear of the inevitable rejection that came with such exposure. Rather than labelling me as weak or needy or clingy, she kept guiding me towards accepting and loving myself, and on some intuitive level, it felt like exactly what I needed.
“Rejection is inevitable in this life. It happens to everyone, even people who don’t put themselves and their work out there. From what you’ve said, it’s a fear of being judged that most jumps out to me. Judgement is the other person’s problem, not yours. And it’s always going to happen, whether positively or negatively. There’s nothing you can do about it. When you love yourself, truly,” Alysa had suggested, gently, “you won’t be as affected by other people’s reactions to you. It won’t be as devastating because you will have a stronger relationship with yourself. With your neurodivergence, however, it does bring with it a higher susceptibility to rejection sensitivity.”
Understanding myself more helped immensely. My ADHD or my neurodivergence was obviously a factor in my life, and I liked how Aylsa was real about the challenges that come with having ADHD and that she wasn’t turning that into a problem or something to be cured.
Aylsa had leant forward. “What did your child self want most in the world?”
“To be safe. Loved.”
“What lit her up and made her feel safe and loved?”
“When my parents noticed me. I would put on these shows in my living room. I’d jump around singing with a hairbrush for a microphone. Sometimes I sang my own lyrics to my favourite songs or even played them my own songs. They let me sing the house down and they told me I was excellent. It was one of the only ways I remember being able to get their attention. When I got older, they told me not to be so childish and that they weren’t going to humour me any longer. I still made music, but I never played it for them after that.”
“How did that make you feel?”
It had taken me a long time to answer her as I’d searched myself. “Like I didn’t matter. Rejected.”
It was so painful to remember the times when my parents had been cold and distracted. I knew they were busy keeping a roof over our heads, but it still hurt. I sat with the hurt, doing my best not to push it away, like Aylsa had suggested.
“Tell me,” Aylsa had asked, after a long silence. “What’s one thing that you love about yourself, as you are today?”
“I’m loyal to the ones I love.”
There was something about her questions that opened something up inside of me. A softness for myself. A sense of care and protection.
I saw myself for what I was. Good. Kind. Perfectly imperfect.
And all I felt was love.
I sat forward and picked up my pen to get all this down in my journal before I forgot it. I texted Lily to let her know I’d be sleeping here tonight. I’d lost track of time, but more than that, I needed to deal with my feelings on my own rather than dump all of my emotional needs onto her. I wanted to show her I meant what I said about me being more independent. I wanted to be more of a source of love and strength to myself rather than depending on her as much.
She replied immediately saying that was fine and to take care.
I didn’t stop writing until the early hours of the morning.
