Client Missed - Session 2

(Beep. Music fades in.)

You listened to your last recording a few times, did you not? It was hard not to. You aren’t used to being acknowledged or to have your feelings be seen. And so that feeling had the power of novelty. And a taste you couldn’t explain. You weren’t used to it. You’re used to being overlooked, unseen. Missed, even.

You flinched with that acknowledgment. Because no matter how many times you hear me say it, no matter how many times you think it to yourself, no matter how many times that wound throbs, you still don’t fully believe it. You don’t believe me, you don’t believe yourself, and you don’t believe it’s there. You still deny it. You still instinctively reject it. Or repel it. You try to banish the thought from your mind, sending it far away from you. 

But that hasn’t worked, has it? You try to banish it, calling it out like it was some little gnat buzzing in your ear. It’s just a pest, isn’t it? It’s just something that has come for you, something that has sought you out and gone after you, so it can be sent back from whence it came. The logic is sound, I’ll admit. It’s consistent and straightforward, but there’s an assumption there that you don’t see. That you won’t let yourself see. 

For that to be true, this has to be separate from you. An assumption on my part. Something inflicted upon you. Something outside of you. And I just don’t think that’s true.

There’s a tether there, some sort of connection point. I won’t go into specifics. There’s no need to. It would be entering into a debate with you that I just don’t think is worthwhile. Neither of us will win, and the outcome won’t change anything. So let’s just say there is a tie between you and this feeling, this thought, this observation. And when you try to throw this thing out into the void, the tether will not break; it will only go taut. It will even stretch a bit. But that won’t help you. All that stretch will do is make the snap back so much more painful. 

You’ve dodged a few of those snap backs. You could have been hit but weren’t. And that’s impressive. But that won’t last forever, will it? 

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

There’s something you want to say, something you want to confess, even. You want to tell me something. It feels like a secret. It may not be. There’s something scandalous about it. There’s something forbidden about it. 

“I’m hurting” you want to say. Those are the words that have that aura. Those are the words that feel that way, that feel wrong and forbidden.

You should also say that latter bit to yourself. You should also admit and acknowledge the way you deny so much of yourself and your reality. Not just to orient yourself. Not just to see and feel how badly the problem has really gotten. But also because to do so would be the first step in fixing this. It will be the first break. Of a habit, mind you. Of a habit, let me remind you. Not a person. Certainly not one you care about. Certainly not those you have been trying so hard to protect for so long. 

Protect them from what, you ask Yourself? Guilt? Blame? You’ll ignore the first suggestion in favor of the third. You don’t want them blamed for this. But what does that mean? Does it mean that this is all your fault? Because you haven’t changed it all yet.

It’s hard, you say, preemptively.

I know, I reply. I never denied that. I never chastised you for not breaking this pattern. It only sounded like it. You only heard it that way. Because it makes it easier to ignore me. 

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

Did you think I was going to blame you for your own invisibility? For how often your hurts get shunned and overlooked? No, I would never. I know you did not choose this. You did not opt into this, I should say. This was the world you were born into. These were circumstances that greeted you when you were too young and small to do anything about it. And it feels like there should be an author to them, right? There should be some sort of intention behind your family’s suffering. Behind the cancer diagnosis. But there isn’t. 

Did you lose yourself looking for that reason? Everyone lost you in the chaos of it all. You were healthy. You were well. You smiled a time or two, which was enough for them to assume that you were fine. There was no time to question it, they thought. There were too many appointments that you did not need to be at. 

And there was cereal in the house, right? Usually milk. You said that. You said that because you didn’t want them to worry about you. There’s something noble about that. In why it is you tried to be a being without needs. As impossible as that seemed.

Survival is a tricky thing. We all want it. We all need it in technical terms. And in pursuit of it–a desperate and almost unhinged pursuit–we start to shed. First the inconveniences, then the luxuries, and then the needs of different and not exactly relevant in the moment. In that moment, we do what we have to do And against the most pressing foe. But no one gets a life ladened with a single battle. There’s always a next one. There’s always something else coming. 

You survived that first battle. You took on the role of self-sufficient auxiliary person well. You did what had to be done. No one can deny you that. No one can fault you for that. But how many years has her cancer been in remission? How long has it been since that war has been won? 

The next one has come. It’s a very different one. There’s no disease on one hand, and on the other, it’s one where you have to take care of yourself. But you don’t know what that means. You don’t know what that will bring. The unfamiliarity frightens you. So you turn away. You pretend that is not the case. You keep the status quo despite the inaccuracies. 

I have to tell you something too. No one else will entertain this illusion. No one else will deny what we see. It’s just you. Alone. In silence. The problem compounds.

(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?