Detached

Hi –

If you look up the word detached, Google tries to predict what you are looking for and the first thing that comes up is detached retina. This means that the retina is being pulled away from its normal position in the back of the eye. Good news – I don’t have a detached retina. 

The regular definition of detached is as an adjective and according to dictionary.com has 4 meanings:

1. not attached; separated: a detached ticket stub.

2. having no wall in common with another building (opposed to attached): a detached house.

3. impartial or objective; disinterested; unbiased: a detached judgment.

4. not involved or concerned; aloof.

According to my latest session with Dr. Lee, she says I sound detached. I guess the fact that she came up with anything is a miracle. I wasn’t expecting her to really give an opinion or feedback really – you might say I was expecting her to stay detached. Perhaps there should be a 5^th definition listed; often times used as a coping mechanism.

Also, under the related searches that Google so thoughtfully lists for you are things like:

detached personality

feeling detached

emotionally detached

So perhaps that Dr. Lee is onto something.

I mean, I guess she’s right. It’s not that I haven’t accepted your death as a reality in my life. I don’t walk around forgetting this to be true, but I’m also not exactly walking around not living my life. The fact is you’re gone. You’re dead. It’s hard to hear, hard to believe, but really easy to say. I can say it out loud even, and I do. I say it all day long. Often times as a reminder. Its not that I forget, but I catch my self speaking about you in the present tense. I catch myself thinking that’s something I should tell her. Then quickly its like a light bulb goes off – I can’t do that, she’s dead. So maybe I am detached. What that means though, I have NO idea. Any guesses?

I will say this therapy thing is weird. The first session was weird, because you have to give this random person some idea about who you are, as well as fill them in on the reason you are there. And I’m sure my reason wasn’t the expected one. She probably saw me walk in and thought depression, anxiety, any number of things, I doubt she saw me and thought – that girl’s mom recently died. I’m pretty sure the blinking neon sign I think I carry around with me is only in my head. Then today I walked in and she asks me what I want to talk about. And the thing is I don’t want to talk. I thought the whole point was they asked leading questions and that got you to open up. ‘What do you want to talk about today,’ is not a leading question. She also asked ‘What do you think about.’ And I had nothing for her. I had to think about, what I think about. The only thing I could come up with was the fact that I was running about 3 minutes behind and that stressed me out – which was true. I HATE being late. And that did sort of open things up and we were able to talk more easily from there. But there was definitely awkward pauses, and silences. I’ve got nothing.

I tried to explain that everything seems black and white at the moment. You’re dead, and you’re not coming back (see I said it again, I say it a lot). So, I’m attempting to live this new life I now have. She asked if I think about all the things we aren’t going to do and share together, and of course I do. But I don’t want to talk about them, at least not yet. I don’t want to spend $6 a week telling her how you’re not going to be at my wedding, or know the man I’m going to marry, or be at the next round of 60^th birthday’s coming up. Those are all the just facts of this new and not so shiny life I have, I don’t know, now I’m just ramble typing. I probably should have said all this to Dr. Lee, but as is the case, it didn’t occur to me then.

I guess I’ll just continue along my detached path, until I'm smacked in the face by something that pushes me into attachment I suppose. Because if I’m acting detached, I guess the plausible alternative is to be attached.

In other news, the TV show Raising Hope with Martha Plimpton has promise, and Running Wilde does not. And if I was ever to become a biker chick I would very much like to model myself after Gemma Teller Morrow (Katey Sagal on Sons of Anarchy), but with better highlights and minus the killing people thing, accident or not. She kicks ass.

Love you forever, miss you always.

Rachel

‘Sometimes I feel as cold as steel
And broken like I'm never going to heal’