Today I reunited with the Jungian analyst, R., who I’ve been working with since October. The two-week absence that he had planned in mid-April stretched into six weeks when his spouse had a major medical event overseas. During an intense and catalytic six-week period of my life, R. was unavailable.
What was it like for you?
he asked me today. The cancellations, the not-knowing what was going on.
For a moment, I was irritated with him for making these minutes of the session about him. But it was a good question. The six weeks of separation hovered between us in the room. So I humored him, played along. Over time, I’ve learned not to reject his ideas about what might be good. Sometimes he’ll get going about a German fairy tale, or a scene from Star Wars. As he gets to the point of the story, my initial irritation often gives way to resonance and awe.
So I answered his question.
I coped by diminishing your importance,
I told him. The words surprised me as they came out of my mouth. In my mind, I began to devalue our work. I thought to myself that I didn’t need you anyway.
I pulled a few tissues out of the box and wept.
If these tears could talk, what would they say?
he asked.
I paused a long time, checking.
I don’t want to pretend not to need anything,
I replied.
Or anyone,
he said.