Unafraid and Present

I have profoundly healing moments in my counselor's office crying. I am learning the unparalleled value in being emotionally present with someone in their messiest, difficult places and simply allowing them to feel through it. It's what I might call holding space or being present. It's not fixing or feeling sorry for the person. It's not placating or projecting uncomfortability like, "When are you going to be done with this already?" It's not changing the subject or making a joke because you can't handle the intensity. It's simply allowing a person to feel whatever a question may bring to the surface, all the way through to an end or breakthrough. It's being an emotionally safe person. I aspire to this.

Tonight I realized how much I'm learning from experiencing this kind of healing. We had Christmas with my in laws. Aunt Pauline was there. She's 94 and dying of cancer. But I wasn't afraid to just be with her, talk with her about the thing that was on her mind: life and death. She beamed sharing stories of her life. Then the far away look told me she glanced toward her future and it stopped her in her tracks. We held hands. I looked her in the eyes and asked if she's afraid. Tears, small yet significant. A slight nod and then a shameful looking away. My tears were not to be contained as I squeezed her to me and told her she was not alone and that she was brave. 

Once upon a time I wouldn't have asked the question because I would have been unsure of how to respond. Once upon a time I would've felt like my small gesture of holding space for sweet Pauline was insignificant in the face of impending death. But not tonight. I know that Pauline felt seen and known and loved. She may not remember with her mind tomorrow what happened on the couch tonight. But I know without a shadow of a doubt that she will remember with her soul, the depth of love that was poured into her being because I wasn't afraid. And I was intentional. And I let the authentic, deep, healing energy of love and listening penetrate the moment.

Thank you, Dr. Regier for teaching me to be present and unafraid.