A quick review of my last few posts reveals a lot about my focus: contemplation of sadness and loss, or moving toward ending. Why do I choose to write so much about these, and so little about the beginnings? Because they are there you know: the times people with aphasia make a discovery about a nascent talent, or talk about a success that they experienced last week, or when they share photos of the grandkids, or a recent vacation. There is laughter in my therapy room. I can feel real joy in the partnership. Yet, few of my posts document that.
I think part of the reason is that the people I see in therapy, even with their great successes, continue to feel “less than” and share that with me. It is not my job, then, to change the subject or find some silver lining to talk about. They know what they are feeling and they need someone to acknowledge that. So often in their lives, the people who care for them the most find that acknowledgement too difficult, too painful. It is like falling down the rabbit hole with Alice; you just don’t know what you will find at the bottom or if there will be a way out.
So, readers, know that I laugh. That we laugh. But that basically I’m there for the hard part.