I’m so blessed to know my therapist, Chrissie. She shines. I know that He placed her in my path to help in saving my life. She was chosen to change lives and save lives. To listen without judgement, comfort without words or human touch but with the compassion in her eyes, and to gently and humbly share her knowledge to lead me and others out of darkness. Genuine like no other.
I know I’m nearing the end of our sessions because I have Him to lead me now and she has taught me SOOOOOOOOO much. Opened my eyes to so many things. Gently helped me to look in the mirror. Took my infinite amount of unorganized thoughts and helped me to input them on a spreadsheet where I could actually see them make sense.
Oh, and she knew my poker face, too. She’s almost sneaky but not in a cruel way. It’s really amazing how she does it but she gets through the layers of BS and disintegrates the armor that was welded over the years… all in the right time.
Out of the many lessons I learned in her office, one of them gives me the chills and brings me to tears nearly every time I think or speak of it. As many of us do, I beat myself up for the walls I built and the mistakes I made along my journey. As I mentioned in a previous post, when your environment is unsafe/threatened, especially as a child, you go into survival mode. I wore that armor from the time I was in huggies and stayed there for a long time. Numbing. Whether drink, drug, pinterest project, career, insert any item or behavior that can divert your eyes from what is in the mirror or in front of you that could potentially harm you.
I beat myself up every day for so many years that when I wiped the steam from the mirror and took all of the eyeliner and lipstick and fake away, I saw a bruised, tear stained, torn apart, little girl. I know that image is startling. I needed it to be. I needed to see those golden locks and big innocent eyes staring back at me. For 30+ years, she was trying to protect herself from pain. Physical, mental, you name your pain. A warrior with the wrong armor and weaponry.
For the first time in my life, my therapist got me to hug that little girl. I stroked her silky hair and held her and told her it would be okay. She could relax and feel safe now. I wasn’t going to hurt her anymore. I wasn’t going to be angry or ashamed of the things she did during survival mode. What a freeing feeling. There really are not words to express what that felt like but I have tears again even as I type this. I love that little girl so much and she has so much to give now that she sees her light.
I will be eternally grateful for having met Chrissie and I will have a heavy heart when I leave her office for the last time. When someone saves your life and helps you to truly experience a paradigm shift, it’s hard to let them go. I’ll probably need therapy to deal with the loss of my therapist. I smile as I type that but I hope that my yellow brick road intersects with her path again someday. She is truly a gift.