Grasp: it’s such a powerful verb. One can grasp something, as in “to have an understanding of.” Or one can grasp an object, to hold that thing firmly. One can grasp for something, to try and seize that thing with the intent of not letting go. One can grasp opportunity, take advantage of a situation. It’s almost limitless, this verb. But what I find most interesting about it, as a word person, is that the object of this grasping doesn’t need to be tangible. In fact, in most instances, we grasp at the immaterial. It’s something primal, instinctual within us that takes hold. We grasp knowledge. We grasp for hope. We grasp for love. We grasp for validation, reassurance, human connection. We grasp the gravity, the weight of a situation. We grasp reality. We grasp Society’s expectations for us. We grasp how we are seen by others. All these things, we hold or seek to hold. All these things that make us human, fallible.
Today I find myself grasping at the intangibles of life. I thought I was okay after sending my “we are done walking this therapy journey together” email. But, apparently that was just a faulty idea I was grasping a little too firmly. Because today I lost hold of that idea. C finally emailed me back and the finality really set in; one might say, I was grasped by reality. Her email wasn’t the closure I had hoped for. And, yes, I was grasping at hope. I held firmly to these unrealistic expectations that she might, in the end, show me some understanding, some humanity, some compassion. I held firmly to the hope that she might finally hear me. But it was all just grasping at things that never could be; that’s not her. I guess it never was. What I got was a precise, clinical, by-the-book, ethical response. Closing my file, terminating our relationship, discharging me from her services.
That was it, just a standard, could be for anyone ending. And she didn’t even spell my last name right in the “attn.” part which I’ve cropped out. I mean, it’s a small mistake but we spent six months, many sessions together… It just feels like another show of disrespect, not being able to properly spell a person’s last name after 6 months. It felt like a slap in the face. But even after all of that, after these months of feeling hurt, feeling punished, feeling disempowered, feeling hopeless, feeling confused, I still grasp at some hope that the relationship wasn’t what I made it out to be. I want to be wrong. Even as I talk to new counselors to try and find a better fit, I still long for the connection I thought was there. It’s absurd. But I guess that’s the thing about grasping the Intangible, it doesn’t always make sense.
I suppose I’m finally free to mourn the end of that journey. Free to move on and hopefully find someone who is a better fit. I spoke to one of the prospects today. I pretty much cried through the whole consultation because of the whole C thing. But, she was kind and patient and wise. She is a possibility. Maybe that’s where I am right now, grasping at possibility. Because everything about my life is in a state of flux, a state of unknown. It’s terrifying. I’ve tried to be brave and positive. I’ve tried holding onto all the different perspectives. But I’m just tired. I’m exhausted from trying to seize the ever elusive hope.
And that exhaustion comes through loud and clear, unfortunately. When I saw the psych today she made me sign a no harm contract, despite my telling her numerous times I wouldn’t harm myself. She said over and over again that she was worried. She wanted me to take more time off from work, to consider intensive out-patient care. I seriously must have been a damn sight to behold. I guess that’s how it was when work had the freak out as well. I’m not sure what it is about tears and depression that frighten people so much. It isn’t helpful, their fear. When I’ve lost hope, the last thing I need is to have to reassure everyone else that all is well. Because it isn’t. Things aren’t okay. I’m not okay. But that is okay. It’s okay to not be okay sometimes.
That’s where I’m at right now. No grasping. Just being okay with not being okay.