Client Grief - SEssion 4

(Beep.)

No one likes being completely alone.

(Music fades in)

I’ve found that to be a universal truth, no less binding than any other. At least, once you really get down to it. Once you and whoever you are talking to truly understand what is meant when one says completely alone. It is a distinct phenomenon, but there is a temptation to not see it as such. Because there are introverts, after all. Individuals who do best in the quiet of a familiar environment with maybe one or two people they trust. It is tempting to take their existence as a reason to doubt that truth. But that’s not what I’m talking about. A moment to composure oneself is not the same as being completely devoid of company, completely devoid of others. 

In reality, should a storm come, the introvert has lifelines. Faint, invisible threads connecting us to those we care about and who care about us in return. That line of mutual investment, the line through which the messages of our hearts–love, care, compassion, nurture– pass through. It’s not entirely unlike umbilical cord, some might say, to the dismay of others. But regardless, the strongest of those tethers can stretch quite a bit. They can reach into those inner sanctuaries. They can endure the onslaught of natural forces, the general wear and tear that comes with life. 

(Music fades out)

But that doesn’t mean they’re indestructible. No, far from it. There is an unexpected delicacy to them that only makes itself known at the worst possible moments. When you are at your most vulnerable. When you are at your most hurt. When you can hardly pay attention to anything happening around you. 

Those times. Those very difficult times. Like right now.

(New music fades in)

You never wanted to lose her. That was why you asked, at first. That’s what the question was really about, you want to say. You didn’t need her hand in marriage or even the marriage itself. It just represented something to you. It was a path that the two of you could walk down that you knew would lead to the destination you wanted. Which was a lifetime with her. And sure, you romanticized it. You painted an image in your mind with the brightest hues. You tried to capture the glow you saw in your mind’s eye onto a canvas that existed beyond you. You tried to turn the imperfect into something perfect, and you convinced yourself that you had succeeded only because the details didn’t matter to you. Only one thing had mattered in your estimations. And that was her. 

But that was the problem. That simplification was the problem. Not her. There’s a distinction there. You can feel it. Or you thought you felt it, but you knew that she did not. You felt the rumble. You panicked. You didn’t know how to explain yourself. You withdrew and tried to figure out what it all meant. You pulled away from her.

You don’t deny it. 

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

But it was for something, you swear. Oh how you swear. Up and down as you run up and down the hallways to find nothing but her absence. She should have been there, right? She was always there. She works from home, does she not? And she was already a homebody, hiding out in the place where she so often felt safe. She told you that your shared home was where she actually felt safe, hadn’t she? Those were her exact words. Actually was the word she put emphasis on. Actually was the word through which she voiced her own surprise at it all. Actually was the first crack in the facade of strength and immobility she put up for everyone, even you. 

You knew about it, you want to tell me. She had been upfront with you about that. About how she had learned to be protective, defensive. She had never meant to lie, even by omission, but in her life lying had meant surviving. And that proved to be a hard habit to break. But you tried to be patient with her. And when that didn’t seem like enough, you tried to hear what she had left unsaid, the words that she had hid from you, thinking she was helping.

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

Noble perhaps, but it was always a fool’s errand, a fool’s task, a fool’s everything. Because what did you hear? Did you hear the cry for help beneath the surface? Or the fear beneath the no? Did you hear the plea for you to speak? To break the silence she struggled so hard to make sense of. 

No. You couldn’t hear those things. You were distracted. You were trying to shake off something. You were trying to outrun something. 

And so the thread went taut. The connection between the two of you was strained. And it may snap, or it may not. But that’s up to you. To you both. 
(Music fades out. Beep.)

The Oracle of Dusk is a production of Miscellany Media Studios with music licensed from the Sounds like an Earful music supply. It was written, edited, produced, and performed by MJ Bailey. And if you like the show, tell friends about it or the quasi-friends that are still on your social media feeds because social norms evolved before words did, am I right?