I took one of the most significant steps of my adult this week, the most transformative since getting married to Maria.
I stopped seeing my longtime and much-beloved therapist, who has been working with me for more than 20 years to control my impulses and my anxiety.
My fears have shaped and dominated my life ever since I can remember life as a child. She deserves a big prize for putting up with me.
Fear shaped everything: how I lived, how I slept, how much money I spent, the decisions I made, and the fear and anger I felt at every step and in the darkness of every night.
Soon after I came to Bedlam Farm in 2003, I broke down and was paralyzed with depression and terror. I wrote about it, and many readers remember it quite vividly.
When I began the blog, I wrote about my illnesses and promised to share my experience. I thought it might be helpful to others, and it was beneficial to me.
I was in awful shape; I suffered from delusions and extreme anxiety; I gave all of my money away to someone I barely knew; I left my family behind, and I got divorced. I ended up living alone with myself and my old traumas for six years before the miracle of Maria.
Peggy and I have taken this journey for every. Finding her was a big deal. So is leaving her.
I had given up on life, love, and hope when I went to see her.
That changed. With Peggy’s help, I swore to myself that I would not spend the rest of my life like that, would find the truth about myself, and would change what I needed to change. It was—is—a long and brutal process. I can get better but never wholly heal. I can live in peace and comfort.
It was terrifying to confront the truth about me, but if I didn’t do it, nothing else would work.
I did it, and I will always do it; I am better. I’ve faced most of the demons inside of me; there are just a few left.
My therapist, Peggy, was with me the whole way, the first person I ever fully trusted in all of my life, the first person who showed me how to see the truth in myself and understand that my problems came from trauma, no one in my left had ever tried to help or understand me.
She taught me to live in reality, not anxiety.
She was—is—the perfect person to help me—direct, honest, intuitive, and tough as nails. I could never get anything past her. There was only one way to survive her—honesty and authenticity. It came slowly but surely. I had no choice.
Peggie was the first human being I ever fully trusted in my life. She saw right through me and into my heart and soul.
Maria was the second person I trusted —two miracles of life.
Trusting someone else was the hardest thing for me. It’s wonderful that I can do it now; it makes all the difference. My relationship with Maria has ripened and deepened; it is now stronger than ever.
Peggy said I shouldn’t blame myself for my troubles. The other day, when I said I thought it was time for us to separate, she told me, “No one ever taught you anything. You’ve had to learn it all by yourself. And you are.”
From the first, I knew Peggy would be my salvation. She saw through me and into me.
In our first meeting, she told me I had lost all perspective and suffered from anxiety and delusions. With one break, I’ve seen her regularly for years. She taught me how to see myself and helped me get better, one week at a time, one day at a time.
And I did get better. I found love. I found happiness. I survived my divorce, a painful struggle for five years.
My panic attacks are gone. So is much of my anger.
I’ve learned how to deal with the anger in me and the anger outside of me—we live in a harsh world at times. I’ve learned to be a loving and caring husband, a better father, and a caring grandfather. And I believe I am a better writer than ever, for all my Dyslexic typos.
I’m a good photographer, too.
When I first met Peggie, she reminded me the other day; she asked me what I wanted from my therapy. I said I wanted to change, no matter what it took, how long it took, or what it required. Through therapy, my spiritual work, my Hero Journey, my meditation, my love of silence, and daily thought and work, I learned the truth about myself and began to work on changing.
I’m imperfect; this was not a miracle or a Hollywood movie. I’m no saint. But I have never wavered from this work and won’t quit now.
It isn’t all over, and it will never be all over. I’ve come far enough to step back from therapy and live on my farm with my wonderful wife, blog, animals, and pictures. My impulses and my anger are under control.
I don’t need to delve into all the reasons for my therapy or all of the things we encountered and worked on. I want to say I’m beginning an extraordinary new step in my life late, but for as long as I have, which I hope will be a while.
It is both frightening and liberating. I can hardly imagine my new life without Peggy to consult and guide me. It’s all on me now. Maria is beside me every step of the way, but I must do this myself for it to mean anything. There is no Peggy to call up and bounce things off.
I’m responsible for me.
I have so much to learn and live for, and I can stand on my own two feet now and live like a grown-up with a deepening and mature perspective. Life and therapy have taught me to live in reality, not delusion or fear.
I have learned much of what I needed to know about life but was never taught. I will keep on learning.
My spiritual direction has also helped teach me many things about living that I have yet to see or be taught. It has given me a more straightforward path and direction and the tools to face the truth, be safe, and do good whenever possible. I am learning about love and genuine compassion.
This is a rich and meaningful process, and I have a long way to go. As long as I live, I will be working every day to get there.
The other person who changed my life is Maria. No matter how long I live or stop living, I will never say goodbye to her either.
She and I are connected in the soul; I can’t imagine that dying or fading away. The miracle of my life was finding her in this remote town of Hebron, where there are many more cows than people. That was the beginning of a new life for me and, perhaps, for her.
Peggy is a brilliant therapist. I will never be able to thank her enough. When I said it was time to step back from therapy, she agreed and said she was proud and happy for me. I will miss her deeply. I’m also proud of me.
For the first time in nearly half a century, I am not in therapy, and it’s up to me. I take full responsibility for myself. I thank the good people – my readers – who have stuck with me these years, on good days and evil, and gave me their understanding, support, and, quite often, their lives.
It took me a long time to appreciate them.
I do now.
They will never know how much they meant to me, even in the blackest days. This decision is liberating and very important.
Peggy had only one request: that I not disappear without saying goodbye. We made plans to see one another in mid-July. I told her I could never say goodbye to her.
She has worked patiently and skillfully to save and change my life in the process.
How do you say goodbye to that?
