Tear-stained chart notes

What is it that differentiates a client from clinician?
It isn't ambition 
or intelligence 
or appearance. 

It's the context, the setting, the system.  

This is what I think about,  
as I walk into my own therapist's office space  
somehow both cheery and sterile.
Here I will share with her parts of myself 
that aren't hers to know  
and whose approval I don't need 
in order to be whole. 
But I do.  
I look at the pictures on her shelf and wonder 
when she found herself,
or if she has.  

Just a few hours before,
my own client came into my office space 
and shared with me 
the recent diagnosis 
that has shaken his sense of self. 
How it doesn't feel the same  
when he gets dressed 
or eats  
or just rests.  

Incongruence within self. 
Something I too know well.  

I simultaneously hear and feel
his truth,
his desire for a sense of inclusion 
back into his own life
and body.

Just like we all want.  

As I write up my notes later on,  
I daydream

back to rearranging my kitchen 
so that I could cook for myself after surgery, 
buying only sweaters with zippers 
because donning a hoodie wouldn’t be an option 
for at least 3 weeks.  
Scheduling my surgery for December 15th   
during the only 4 weeks off I would have off that year 
because productivity is important. 
But isn't healing productive?  
I spent 4 weeks wearing a too-tight compression vest, 
to hold my stitches in place 
until they dissolved to become part of me. 
My mom and her dog as my support system
giving me scheduled medication doses
and soup
and letting me rest.

Disruption to our sense of congruence
whether through injury
or scheduled intervention
or accident,
requires eventual resolution and reconnection  
that can lead to more joy and gratitude  
than we could have previously imagined.  
An overlooked part of the human experience
is the change that happens
during the pause we have to take
when we heal.

My daydream ends when warm tears turn cold  
as they move down my cheek 
and drip onto my clavicle 
where they form a pool 
for all my joy to swim in.  

I don't wipe away my tears 
in fear 
that I wipe away the stories they carry 
and wounds they bury.  

I let them roll down my face, 
hang from my chin 
and be reabsorbed by my skin, 

as if my soul is thirsty. 

The transparent streaks they leave behind 
are the lasting evidence 
that joy moves through us 
despite our hardest days.  

I throw away the tear-stained chart note, 
and start over.

Holly Reid (they/them) is an occupational therapist and PhD candidate engaging in community-driven research that meets community where they are at, draws on existing strengths and resources, and counters the tendency for institutional research to be top-down and deficit-focused. As a consultant, Holly approaches challenging, conflict-filled situations and system-level barriers with humility, compassion and respect. Everyone comes to conversations about diverse ways of knowing, being, and doing with their own perspectives, experiences and knowledge. Outside of work and research, Holly spends time mountain biking through lush West Coast forests, hiking into the woods, gardening and sharing laughs and meals with their friends and family. They currently live near their family on the lands of the W̱SÁNEĆ peoples in the community they grew up in.