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Last Tuesday, I started with a new therapist. I'd asked for recommendations at the beginning of summer, and called around and checked with insurance and finally found one that met my preliminary criteria (not-poly averse or unaware, in my PPO, taking new clients, not located inside the hospital (billing issues), experienced with people who've had therapy before).
I have an interesting relationship with therapy. Every time I've decided to start, as soon as I took action, I started feeling better. Not just in the "I've finally taken action" way, but in the "I'm able to look at my stuff and rationally start dealing with it" way. This time was no different. I know what my main issues are, I just need someone to help keep me on the path of addressing them instead of ignoring them. I'm pretty self-aware, so a newbie therapist isn't going to help me get unblocked this time around. For me, the result of being ready to examine my shit is that I start examining it, labeling, categorizing, drawing the connections. So in the two weeks I had to wait for this appointment, I accomplished a lot of pre-processing.
Then Tuesday morning, I awoke from what I'm calling "the Seraphim dream" (I don't name all my dreams, but I've got a handful that have stuck with me through the years, so). I don't actively practice any religion, I'm not even actively meditating these days, but I was raised Pentecostal, went to parochial school for 7 yrs, was fascinated by Judaism, married into the Catholic church (temporarily - we left shortly thereafter), the kids were baptized Episcopalian, and most of their "organized" experiences had to do with the quarterly observance of pagan rituals. I'm pretty steeped in religious imagery and symbolism.
In the way that dreams are, this was very clear and vivid while I was dreaming, and I had to work at holding onto the salient bits upon awakening. I was speaking with a man, whom in the dream I knew well, and trusted. He was a spiritual guide. He invited me to come to his place of worship, and visit the inner sanctum. He felt I was ready to face and accept what I'd find there. I was skeptical, but open-minded. We traversed a park-like setting, all lush green flora and blue blue sky, to enter the sanctuary. In the auditorium space, there were a lot of people, who mostly ignored me as we passed through. We entered a smaller chamber, there were much fewer people, and they were openly suspicious of my presence. Again we passed through, to an even smaller place where there were less than 50 people - some of whom actually questioned why I was there, why I was being allowed access to the "holy of holies." I was a stranger, and obviously not one of the flock. They all had prior claim to the honor. My guide murmured quietly to them, and they subsided, and we continued to a regular looking door which he opened, inviting me to go through.
I stepped into a small chamber, somewhat like the anteroom to a lab. It had light blue walls, and there was a work surface neatly covered with trays of seedlings. The seedlings were being tended by two beautiful women wearing French blue coveralls. The coveralls had a little patch where the nametag would go, but I can't recall what the emblem was, other than a white oval. The women had dark skin, and shiny black hair which fell straight to their shoulders. They were tall, lithe, graceful, and very serene. My guide closed the door behind me. There wasn't room for 4 adults in the space, though with the 3 of us it didn't feel cramped. I guess they took turns speaking with me, but I don't remember the conversation exactly.
It seemed like they asked me the usual getting-to-know-you questions, but somehow, we already knew each other well enough that the words had many layers. I somehow expressed my guilt or shame for not doing enough, not being enough. "In what way?" I tried to give specific examples - say, political activism, or feminism. These are important to me, and yet, I don't actively pursue opportunities to advance these topics. Each time, they replied, "But do you not do *this*?" "Have you not done *that* with *these* results?" I allowed that I had done those things, I just didn't feel they were good enough to count. "And if you were to speak with someone else, who had done these things, and felt as you do now, would you not reassure them that it was good? That it was *enough*? That there was no need for remorse?" They were so gentle and loving, and their kind support and forgiveness undid me. I wept grateful tears, for having been brought to this place, and held in such esteem and understanding.
Then I woke up. It was a new day. I felt so serene, and a little fiercely glad that I could give myself this dream. I was totally aware that my subconscious was sending me a message of acceptance and peace. That I could forgive myself when I didn't even know I'd been seeking forgiveness. It was my own permission to treat myself kindly, and to cherish all that I've accomplished. I was also a little smugly proud that my subconscious had dressed my Seraphim in actual work clothes, not a Star Trek unitard leaving nothing to the imagination. They were women, women of color, and they were getting their hands dirty. The journey through the sanctuary was pretty common symbolism, but on reflection, it totally reminded me of "The Church of All Worlds," which gave me a giggle too. "Oh brain," she said with fond exasperation.
I shared the dream with my therapist, and with my therapist friend who'd given me the recs. They both agreed that with these kinds of dreams, and the ability to interpret them, therapy time would become obsolete. Of course, you can't just call on your subconscious to get your house in order on command. But it did drive home the point, I think, that I'm not a beginning patient, and that I'm ready and willing to do the work. Plus, I have a new, totally awesome dream to add to my collection.
I have an interesting relationship with therapy. Every time I've decided to start, as soon as I took action, I started feeling better. Not just in the "I've finally taken action" way, but in the "I'm able to look at my stuff and rationally start dealing with it" way. This time was no different. I know what my main issues are, I just need someone to help keep me on the path of addressing them instead of ignoring them. I'm pretty self-aware, so a newbie therapist isn't going to help me get unblocked this time around. For me, the result of being ready to examine my shit is that I start examining it, labeling, categorizing, drawing the connections. So in the two weeks I had to wait for this appointment, I accomplished a lot of pre-processing.
Then Tuesday morning, I awoke from what I'm calling "the Seraphim dream" (I don't name all my dreams, but I've got a handful that have stuck with me through the years, so). I don't actively practice any religion, I'm not even actively meditating these days, but I was raised Pentecostal, went to parochial school for 7 yrs, was fascinated by Judaism, married into the Catholic church (temporarily - we left shortly thereafter), the kids were baptized Episcopalian, and most of their "organized" experiences had to do with the quarterly observance of pagan rituals. I'm pretty steeped in religious imagery and symbolism.
In the way that dreams are, this was very clear and vivid while I was dreaming, and I had to work at holding onto the salient bits upon awakening. I was speaking with a man, whom in the dream I knew well, and trusted. He was a spiritual guide. He invited me to come to his place of worship, and visit the inner sanctum. He felt I was ready to face and accept what I'd find there. I was skeptical, but open-minded. We traversed a park-like setting, all lush green flora and blue blue sky, to enter the sanctuary. In the auditorium space, there were a lot of people, who mostly ignored me as we passed through. We entered a smaller chamber, there were much fewer people, and they were openly suspicious of my presence. Again we passed through, to an even smaller place where there were less than 50 people - some of whom actually questioned why I was there, why I was being allowed access to the "holy of holies." I was a stranger, and obviously not one of the flock. They all had prior claim to the honor. My guide murmured quietly to them, and they subsided, and we continued to a regular looking door which he opened, inviting me to go through.
I stepped into a small chamber, somewhat like the anteroom to a lab. It had light blue walls, and there was a work surface neatly covered with trays of seedlings. The seedlings were being tended by two beautiful women wearing French blue coveralls. The coveralls had a little patch where the nametag would go, but I can't recall what the emblem was, other than a white oval. The women had dark skin, and shiny black hair which fell straight to their shoulders. They were tall, lithe, graceful, and very serene. My guide closed the door behind me. There wasn't room for 4 adults in the space, though with the 3 of us it didn't feel cramped. I guess they took turns speaking with me, but I don't remember the conversation exactly.
It seemed like they asked me the usual getting-to-know-you questions, but somehow, we already knew each other well enough that the words had many layers. I somehow expressed my guilt or shame for not doing enough, not being enough. "In what way?" I tried to give specific examples - say, political activism, or feminism. These are important to me, and yet, I don't actively pursue opportunities to advance these topics. Each time, they replied, "But do you not do *this*?" "Have you not done *that* with *these* results?" I allowed that I had done those things, I just didn't feel they were good enough to count. "And if you were to speak with someone else, who had done these things, and felt as you do now, would you not reassure them that it was good? That it was *enough*? That there was no need for remorse?" They were so gentle and loving, and their kind support and forgiveness undid me. I wept grateful tears, for having been brought to this place, and held in such esteem and understanding.
Then I woke up. It was a new day. I felt so serene, and a little fiercely glad that I could give myself this dream. I was totally aware that my subconscious was sending me a message of acceptance and peace. That I could forgive myself when I didn't even know I'd been seeking forgiveness. It was my own permission to treat myself kindly, and to cherish all that I've accomplished. I was also a little smugly proud that my subconscious had dressed my Seraphim in actual work clothes, not a Star Trek unitard leaving nothing to the imagination. They were women, women of color, and they were getting their hands dirty. The journey through the sanctuary was pretty common symbolism, but on reflection, it totally reminded me of "The Church of All Worlds," which gave me a giggle too. "Oh brain," she said with fond exasperation.
I shared the dream with my therapist, and with my therapist friend who'd given me the recs. They both agreed that with these kinds of dreams, and the ability to interpret them, therapy time would become obsolete. Of course, you can't just call on your subconscious to get your house in order on command. But it did drive home the point, I think, that I'm not a beginning patient, and that I'm ready and willing to do the work. Plus, I have a new, totally awesome dream to add to my collection.
