I miss you. When I think I’ve stabilized my emotions surrounding losing you, I am faced with more to process, more to miss, more pain.
I did it today—I successfully had my very first session with a client. It went so well (I think), and I had to rush out after to pick up the preschooler, but when I got to the car I paused to share my excitement. But I felt nauseous as my brain was forced to sort out why you weren’t checking in with me in this pivotal moment. You probably would have already texted me first, telling me how you can’t wait to hear how it went or how proud you are or that I’ve got this.
I cried big, ferocious tears on the way home from my first client. I paused to connect with the Wolfpack, excited to share my good news, but the Wolfpack isn’t at full strength without you and on that drive home, the awfully stunning reality of not having your support choked my system.
It felt crushing to little-me and teen-me, who constantly looked to the Wolfpack for maternal care and co-regulation. I felt like suddenly I had to choose: the counselor part of me can survive if little-me and teen-me stop existing. Those parts of me need the whole Wolfpack so badly.
I don’t think anyone really gets it; how much the little parts of me miss you. Loved you. Need you. It feels unsafe to exist without your safety to run to.
I had a nerve-filled but exciting day, and still it ended, unexpectedly, in my body reaching out for safety. Little-me searching and searching and searching for the safe spot that wasn’t ever supposed to be taken. And I am looking at little-me with so much compassion but from so far away. I can’t hold her hand—it’s too overwhelming. I need you to hold her. 😭