It’s a weekend stage at my therapists. There are 10 of us in total : my therapist, an addition therapist and 8 courageous individuals all who seek healing. I am one of them. I don’t know the others.

She has stand and make a circle and join hands. Both if the hands I hold are cool. Not unpleasantly, nor pleasantly. She asks that we simply feel. Feel and not think. We stand, and I feel the hands moving a bit, beck and forth, as water in the ocean pushes and pulls your body. It feels good, safe, alive. I realise that I haven’t touched anyone lately. A quick hug here and there with the kids but I have not been held. And this was doing it for me. Beautiful embrace of hands gently holding me in place, keeping me there and letting me just be. I let go of my défenses although I know nothing if the others. I have trust.

Later during the break, music fills the room and Aude my therapist grabs my hand and invites me to dance « le rock ». Our bodies hear the rhythm the same way. Not all do and it’s not the same pleasure as when it syncs perfectly. We dance, she holds my eye and I laugh. It’s so delightful ! Who could believe that there could be so much joy in a little moment like that ? It made me want to dance with Francois, with Audrey, Robert, my brother and dad. Maybe even my ex husband. Finally all relationships could transform into something sound.

One of the women shared how her partner had pinned down her unruly teenager and yelled his guys out at him. It was 3 weeks ago and since she had tension throughout her body. Her trauma had been awaken. Abd with it the thoughts that she will never be able to run away from the abusive relationship she and the children’s father was in. She lives in fear every time the kids go to him and now also in fear when the kids are with her because of how her partner could react.

The therapist placed this huge firm foam cube between her and another participant. He was willing and had the right to cop out whenever he wanted. on the count of 3, holding on with their hands to the foam cube the bang three bassin into the cube. It looks funny. But she build up a rage doing it. Primal screams fill the room. I’m scared. Very scared. I start crying. It’s so horrible. I can hear the fear for her kids, for her, the fear that he is going to hurt them, kill them in his rage. George stays in the situation. Brave man. I don’t think I could have. And brave woman. Brave to open Pandora’s box of emotions and dare to feel the fear, the helplessness, the rage because of what happened, what could happen again despite all those precautions she took.

Another one is up and here too, his pain resonates deeply inside of me. He feels different from the others and this hurts a lot. He is too sensitive, too naive, too too much. I know that and only very recently made peace with that. My friend Rachel helped me with that. The words that healed were: I don’t want to be like the others. I would rather be sensitive like me then like all those other bulldozers any day if the week. The works would be a better place if the % were inversed. And If there is no difference then I don’t exist. So to exist is to accept difference and to honor it.

Im home now, in front if the fire. Im tired. Head and body. I feel sleep is what I need.

Good night