Sylvia's Journal

Yesterday I had my last session with EMDR Ruth. I have been seeing her since August and this was session number 17. We looked back on those first few sessions when I got myself anchored in a safe place. Finding that safe place was more important than I realized at the time. Axel is now involved in doing the same. The therapy stirred up all sorts of surprising dregs from my past. The conversations that needed to take place, at least those that could, have taken place and things have been put to bed. No longer do I have those intensely physical reactions to memories of the crash. I can look a windsock in the eye (sock) without blinking. Gone are those fleeting sensations that take my breath away even when I am up in the air or preparing for landing. I am not sure if one can get cured from the aftermatch of an accident, but this feels like it. So we said our goodbyes with a big hug and I closed yet another chapter.

The rest of the day was an intense battle with work streaming in over the transom in waves. Everything wanted my instant attention. I could not have handled the multiplicity of tasks a couple of months ago, but I look back on yesterday and I think I managed OK.

This week brings memories from the plane crash, three years ago, that ripped three young colleagues from MSH out of our and their lives in the distant mountains of Western Afghanistan. This was a week of much crying and embracing and finally a trip to Topeka Kansas to be with Carmen’s family. I wrote them, as I do every year, and remembered their daughter. The Africans have a saying that as long as someone is remembered they are not truly dead. Of course that plane accident now has a different emotional load for me as I discovered how easy it is to be suddenly gone.