|
In my work as a clinical psychologist, I often ask clients who have experienced psychological trauma -- such as a divorce or a loss of a parent -– what kind of physical wound the event most feels like. Often, they say that they feel as if many bones in their body had been broken, or that they have lost an arm, or that they have suffered a gunshot to the stomach. Yet, because their very serious wounds are not visible to the eye, most of these clients expect that they should be able to continue living their normal lives without interruption, as if their bones were not broken, their limbs not severed, their bodies not in a state of psychological shock.
I, too, was not visibly injured, other than being a little more pale than usual for a week or so. Yet I felt tired and devoid of energy all of the time, I had no interest in the daily tasks or the pleasures of life, and I had no belief in any future.
When I could, I continued to draw during this period, and my drawings felt like images and reflections of the state of my psychological body, in the same way that dreams are also images of the state of one’s psyche. Similar to dreams, my drawings came without conscious planning: they began and evolved without my directing them, and they seemed to take on a life of their own.
Although these images speak for themselves, I feel that if I can also find the words to describe and explain what is going on with the images, then perhaps my heart and mind can work together again.
February 25, 2007
|
