Client Hurt - Session 5

(Beep.)

Life never goes how we planned

(Music fades in)

And maybe, just maybe, that might work out sometimes. Maybe our plans shouldn’t come to fruition. Maybe we’re better off if they don’t. Maybe our plans are worth discarding. Maybe we should shake off the burden and move on. Maybe our plans were flawed, made up entirely of our fears. Maybe we were not the authors of them, and instead, they were written by the ghosts of our past. 

If that were so, then I suppose, one would wonder if those plans could even be considered yours if you never came up with them. If you never even wanted them. It was the things that haunted you that dictated that path in life for you. It was those ghosts. 

You never consciously gave them control. You never chose to surrender to them. It just happened. They showed up when you were young and small, made even more helpless by your own fears, fears stoked by the things you were seeing around you. They were the ghosts of the things your father broke. Like your spirit and your sense of hope. 

Once the ghosts came, they never left. They took over, and you couldn’t pull back, could you? You didn’t let them have control; they just took it. They had the reins over you for so long. They dictated the courses of your life for you for so long. And now, they aren’t. And it’s you in control.

(Music fades out)

It’s not a feeling you’re used to. Savor it. Take a deep breath. Feel your shoulders rise higher than they ever have before. 

(Music fades in)

But they could go higher still. You’re well aware of it. You’re aware they are still weighed down, tied down if you’d rather that verbiage. This was never going to be an overnight fix. There was never going to be a singular wand you could wave or a single jewel on a golden band crafted with love that could break the sort of curse you find yourself caught up in. 

And that doesn’t bother you so much. It does a bit. You see the lingering aches, the ripples of that first break traveling across your partner’s eyes. And you feel them. And that part does hurt, but you aren’t desperate for that immediate fix anymore. You’re calmer than you were about it. You understand the story differently now. And there’s still something beautiful about it despite the lack of magic and easy solutions.

You loved fairy tales as a kid. I did too. It’s a good thing to like. Some fairy tales revolve around a moment of perfection, of fulfillment of something far beyond the characters: some prophecy or spell or grand plan. It’s not accurate, but it does make sense. It makes for a simple story, the sort of story a child can understand. They aren’t supposed to take the mechanics of it to heart, but they should learn the themes. Or the moral, I believe. In life, however, there are not too many stories that end in a moment. Usually, it’s the start of just another journey that brings the first to a close, a sequel that begins right as the first book ends. 

This is more a journey than a moment. But that doesn’t scare you. There are things that scare you but the journey does not. Because you are not alone. You are not alone.

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

Your partner deleted me off of their podcatcher. And if I could be flung from the mind just as easily, I would be. No offense taken at the haste. There is no more room for me in that life. I get it. I don’t need to stay. So your partner will not hear this session. Your partner has heard none of your sessions. They never will. This understanding of you has come from you. This invitation to walk with you has only come from you. I did nothing on that front

That’s comforting, you want to say, as if I won’t see how weak that answer is, as if I won’t see your nerves beneath the surface. 

No, you want to say, I’m glad it’s for me.

And you want to believe that. You aren’t saying it for my benefit but for yours. You want to believe in it, in yourself, in your bond. But it’s hard. I know. And yet, it’s part of the journey. It’s just a part of it that I can’t be a part of.

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

With that, you close your eyes. You weren’t expecting to feel a sense of loss when this ended. You were too busy feeling the potential other loss of the person you love most in the world. And don’t worry about it. Certainly you’ve noticed that it’s very hard to offend me. I’m just not the sort to get caught up in such things. 

But at the same time, it turns out you will miss me. To that, I’m flattered. That is something I can feel, surprisingly. I feel flattered and also confident in you. 

You were never the sort of person who could handle being alone. You tried to become that, once upon a time, and then you realized that it wouldn’t work and tried to adapt. You let your partner into your world. Then you let your mother back in. You let each of them hold you, really hold you, for the first time in what must have felt like forever. And it felt good, didn’t it? It felt like everything was coming together. Like you were coming together. Like you were actually healing. 

In reality, I think that was where we needed you to be before there could no longer be a we. It was about getting you to others who could clean your wounds, something that I could never do but what you really needed done. 

And so, I leave you like this. With one last word before I go.

Next to you, your partner sleeps. And perhaps, you should be as well. Let that be the last bit of advice I give you. The rest is up to you. 

(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?