I left the therapist today thinking about oceans, the sand below the surface, and what helps us see past the in-between. And what happens when we get "there." What happens after 34 years of grieving the loss of yourself, and what do we make of the transitions that follow. And how do we make, everything that follows, in those oceans sometimes waves. I'm learning that light doesn't come from above. It surfaces. And resurfaces from the crevasses around and below. And reflects off of those who help us see ourselves better, while making a heart for them to stay in, or just visit sometimes.
I left thinking that it's maybe good to let go of the lost, and all of the findings that happen along the way. To swim up for air. Those findings don't belong to us forever. We belong to us forever. Everything else is set in place to help us understand that. Maybe. And maybe's are okay. And Be's are okay. But that's for next week.