I am now in my 63rd year of life. I have been clean and sober for over 31 years now, and I am still looking behind me, to a certain extent. I am the second of four children, three girls and a boy, and all that's left of us are the women, three very flawed women, two who live in the same house and more than halfway across the country - along with our mother. Out of the three of us, only one had a living child, a boy who is now an adult. We are all separate and yet irrevocably connected by that familial bond, though we are not close.
I am now a full fledged therapist with five whole years of experience. I find that to keep my sanity and not be overwhelmed I must keep those hard-won boundaries, in spite of being easily available by text message or phone, as I use the phone for virtual sessions. Seeing clients from the comfort of home, at times I feel like I am carrying them with me, especially the younger ones. Though in fact they are all younger than me. I am boundlessly thankful that I can understand nearly every problem that is brought to me, most especially the emotional difficulties: The loss, the grief, the insecurities, the fears, the anger, endless and circular thinking, the over attachment to, or distancing from, others, the feeling the that the world owes you something -- all of it is me.
What I have lost in terms of intimacy, of being childless, of stability, of any real sense of permanence, I have gained in acceptance, flexibility, and at times actual peace within myself. I don't know why, after all the years of searching for love, both trying to get it and trying to give it, I don't feel the need to search any longer. One could say that I have given up but to me it feels more like giving over. Yet I still feel the need to examine my life and find some meaning, and perhaps pass some of it along.
