Real connections.

I have been thinking about the very special bond my Mum and I had. I know it was a more intense closer bond as we had often been through turbulent, traumatic times together. I do not think I will ever experience such a bond again. It was so unique and precious. But every now and again I notice glimpses of similar connections when I am with others. And the memories of those times with my Mum emerge and warm my heart.

It often happens with others who I have just met or do not know very well. Suddenly something unexpected will happen with them and I will be bowled over by the heartfelt emotion.

Two examples come to mind. The first one occurred when I had gone to the North East for a few days training. I knew one of the other students so that was helpful although I do tend to be okay meeting new people. I can easily make conversation so that is not a stumbling block and I think being a church child, I was taught to make people always feel welcome and worthy. (Sadly, that was only meant for other people, not for me as a child.)

Anyway, I met my housemates and two of them were from Alaska. I found that fascinating. We all got on very well and decided to venture to the beach that afternoon. We walked along the beach with the dogs and then started to make our way back to the car through the dunes. Now I have a congenital hip disorder so I am not the easiest walker on the level but sand and sand dunes especially really show up my different gait and cause me much difficulty. So I am really slow. The others zoomed off ahead of me chatting away and did not notice the struggling straggler. But one of the Alaskans, turned back as she noticed I was not with the group. She found me taking two steps forward and three steps backwards. She came back to me and asked if I would like to take her arm.

The shame was all-consuming. Why couldn't I be like everyone else? Why did I have to have misaligned legs. I do not want to be different but I also do not want to be the one people have to look after and help. I just want to be 'normal'.

But I really did appreciate her kind gesture and she tried to make me feel better by saying she also struggles at times. The tears flowed. I could not believe that someone would come and help me like that. I did not want to be a burden on anyone. All those feelings of being unwanted, uncared for and worthless had come rushing to the fore. But here was someone who had only just met me and she wanted to help. I tried pushing her away by telling her I was okay and she should go and walk ahead with the others who were so far ahead by then they seemed like small dots up on the hill. But she was steadfast in her determination to get me out of this sandy quagmire that was drawing me in like a suction.

We eventually made it. It seemed like forever. I was all red in the face and hot and bothered, and so was she actually. That song 'he ain't heavy, he's my brother was playing in my head'. I was blown away. Somebody I did not know had actually done that for little old me. It really meant so much. The only other person I knew who would have done the same was my Mum.

The second time happened a few years ago. I had just started personal therapy in the outdoors. The therapist had seemed quite nice but it takes a long time for me to really trust people and I was still gauging how and when I would discuss the various issues I desperately needed to work on. I felt comfortable enough on the second session to talk about a certain 'lower level' issue that I knew would cause me distress and heartache. I suppose I was testing the therapist to see how she handled my distress. How would she react? Would she dismiss it; would she acknowledge it; what would she do?

She encouraged me to dwell in it. I felt safe and held in our therapeutic space that was the woodland. Afterwards, she asked what I would like to do. I said I would like to go to the river, I needed to be near water. Water has always been my go to when I need time and space for healing and rejuvenation. Depending on the situation, it can be the sea, a river or when I was caring for my Mum and just needed two minutes to escape and breathe - even turning the tap on to watch and listen to the water flow over my hands sufficed. I just need to be near water.

We left the woodland and walked to the nearby river. It was very wide and low at the time. It had just been raining though so the bank was very muddy and slippery. I had the urge to put my hands in the river. My therapist reminded me that the water would probably be icy cold. That did not matter, I needed to feel the water flowing through my fingers. I needed the water to wash away all the sadness I had just experienced. It was just a couple of steps down the muddy bank. I found a foothold and bent down to put my hands in the river. Once again my therapist warned me about the cold water. She was standing on the bank looking down at me. It was okay, I would be alright as long as I could get my hands in this river.

I did and I gently swayed my hands around and about in the beautiful clear river. It was wonderful. All the stresses and strains were washing away. I was enamoured by the river and the beautiful multi-coloured pebbles I could see clearly on the river bed. I suddenly heard my therapist ask if the water was cold. I turned to look back up at her but she was not there. I heard her say 'oh it's not too bad'.

Strangely, her voice came from beside me. I turned to look sideways and there she was crouching down right next to me with her hands in the water gently swishing about. Oh my goodness. The sight of her so close to me, also experiencing the feeling of the river flowing warmed my heart so much. She was with me. In so many ways. I could not believe it. She would actually do that for me? There was only one other person I knew who would have instinctively done that, and that was my Mum. I then knew she was definitely the right therapist for me and that she would be by my side literally and figuratively every step of my therapeutic journey.

It also made me realise the importance of my work as a play therapist. How I was always present and 'there' for the children. I at last understood how the children feel in play therapy. And that is precious.