Amusement Park

My support system includes the chaplain/rabbi "M" from the hospital. She offered continuity at the hospital during the numerous stays, admissions, treatments. According to her she first met Robert when I wasn't there. I still puzzle over how he could have met anyone when I wasn't there because I was always there, but I digress (see previous post).

I talk with her to help me process the grief that has overwhelmed me recently. Someone to explore thoughts and check my reality, maybe I should say sanity. It is really hard to do this on one's own.

We talk about the roller coaster. And I share a friend's comment that "the good thing about them is that the ride ends and you get off."

Whoa right there! I never ever in my wildest dreams, fantasies or plain old thoughts considered that it would stop and I could get off. This ride has been going for two years and counting. Get off?!?!?!!? I can not even comprehend the concept.

As I try to explain this to "M" I realize the idea of getting off is terrifying. As out of control the roller coaster may be, it is a known quantity. Okay I don't know when it will do its thing—it goes up, it goes down, it goes loop-de-loop. But I do know that it will always be changing, and I just hang on tight.

My original visual was that I am hanging on to the bar with legs flying out behind. Holding on for dear life. As we talk I realize that the imagery had changed at some point. Because now I find I am sitting inside the car and the seat wraps around me, and holds me while it does its thing. I may have no control but we are one the roller coaster and I.

"M" asks me to visualize standing on a platform next to the roller coaster. I have to see the platform first. Individual planks of wood in a natural coloring, with spaces between the boards. There is no railing. Just this platform somehow suspended in space next to the cars of the roller coaster. I do notice that the roller coaster has stopped next to the platform.

After what feels like an eon I hesitantly step onto the platform. This is in no way comforting. I feel myself sway and battle vertigo. The roller coaster beckons reassuringly. When I share with "M" what I'm feeling she suggests I build stairs down to the ground, and even add a railing.

I look at the stairs and realize they lead down down down to the ground where there is a Ferris Wheel. Oh boy I can now go around in upward circles. She laughs and says I am building my own amusement park! So I quickly add a Carousel filled with horses going up and down. And I can ride the Carousel. But the roller coaster is beckoning again.