Sharing the Pain

           "The blinds were slanted to keep the afternoon sun from shining on my client’s face. The grey room with a blue accent wall was spacious by therapy room standards, a twelve by thirteen easily accommodating the two of us as well as a couch with side tables holding Kleenex boxes and my desk in the corner. It was quiet except for the voice of my client. I listened with head tilted to one side as I rocked in my glider. It was another client who had suffered complex trauma. The client felt helpless, easily hurt and afraid to make friends for fear of betrayal. 

“I’m twenty-six,” she lamented. “I never got to go to college because I ran away from home to live with my boyfriend before I even finished high school. I didn’t realize how abusive he was until later, after we were too involved. By then it was hard to break it off. I had no friends and was cut off from my family. I stayed longer than I should have.” A tear escaped down her cheek as she stopped, struggling to breathe. I stayed still, sitting with her in her pain, letting my care fill the void. 

She went on to explain how she had been so upset at one point that she finally walked out, not sure where she was going, but heading away from the apartment where they lived because she could not endure it any longer. As she narrated her scene, memories flashed before me, memories of abuse and pain and running. If she only knew, I thought, feeling her distress in the depths of my soul. If she only knew I closely I identify with this…"


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