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Thursday, October 20, 2016

Counselling level 2...


Endings are sometimes seen as losses by clients, particularly those with bereavement issues....
Individually list all the major losses you have personally experienced.
What impact have these losses had on you and how have you handled them...

I began working on this about 20 minutes ago.
Mind-map seemed best...

There are two camps regards feelings and remembering.

Those against it seem to regard remembering as a process of re-infection. Each time the story plays, it drags in more elements from the present into itself and grows into a monster! Or less malignantly, remembering is viewed as a self-indulgent story told to gain the sympathy of others.

That's what my mom tried to teach me anyway.

The anti-thinking style is a frame of mind I class as The Cruel Sea mode. In this mode the sacrifice of an individual for the sake of the masses is justified by the extremity of the time. It is believed that empathy, or kindness are weakness.

It's the kind of thinking that prevails during war...or at least in war stories.

The opposite view regards painful memories as intruding into everyday thought because they are in need of integration. Reintegration is an active process of reviewing, re-experiencing, resolving the unknowns and connecting the old, with healthy and strong memories.

I personally maintain that only integration can ever stop memories intruding. So I'm in my element with the counselling course, I find my trusty imaginary rucksack has been packed with many useful EDC (every-day-carry) that I can use in this new world, and being in a place where I'm actively encouraged to look at my own thoughts makes me happy.

I prefer the company of those who honor who and what they are.

It is interesting though, my mom's dismissal of my dad's ramblings as annoying, is something more than just irritation at hearing the same story again. It made her angry. I found the way she responded to taking care of the dead interesting too. They were gone as soon as the breath left their bodies and cremated into nothing...the school of throwing away.

My dad's family were so different.

To go back to my homework

I don't see loss as having an impact though.
Oh, unless its impact like a wisdom tooth boring into the tooth beside it?

Perhaps I don't understand the word impact!

Loss isn't a force that comes out of the blue to hit me...

Loss is an intrusion into this world
Of chaos.

The compass spins, no north, no south.
No guiding star.

No sun.
No Moon.

All the maps are blank space.
All paths lead to brick walls
All roads to glass

Meaning tears fragile as spider's web.

A hit of something...a sense of triumph.

That I'm still alive
The world unmade
Made again
Catastrophically different

Waiting for the hurricane to sweep through...

I look down
See my tough boots
Know my bag is full of useful things to sustain me

The fire ball of triumph dissolves pretty fast
The wide vista of endless possibility
Mortality becomes meaningless holes in the fabric of the world.

Then all that's left is the task of honoring the dead
Then honoring one's memories of the dead

Until the dead speak once more from my soul.
Find a home in me

As my memories link up with present day life...

This is my experience.