It was nearly a year ago to this day. I was meeting with my client - a fresh quadriplegic. My sole intention was to assess the depths of his depression, pain and frustration over his recent loss. We sat for hours as he attempted to quantify how often he cries, how angry he gets, how much he misses the old life - and how much he has disappointed the ones he loves. I asked him to circle numbers and fill in scales. and there he sat, crying like a young child. He hurt in ways undesirable and unfathomable to another soul. His tremoring chin merely shone a light into the depths of his pain. I heard each word, watched each tear - until he turned to me...
and asked me about pain. He asked me what it was like - my pain. He asked how often i cried, he asked about my disappointments, my regrets. He asked about how deep the hurt went and how long it had been eroding my veins.
I didn't want to tell him, it didn't seem right. but he further delved... why did i hang my head slightly to the side, why did my smile only creep up on the left side... why did i hide my hands in my pockets... he dove until our tears began to mix on the floor below - together. and to my surprise our tears didn't separate, mine didn't float to the top because they were more superficial. they combined perfectly. And so I told him... about you. about how you hurt me. I told him every detail about you and him and the other guy. I told him because someone had to know. Because for the first time in years, someone wanted to know. He saw every chin tremor, every tear fall, and every missed breath. and he knew the pain pulsating through our veins was the same.
and there we sat. hazy eyed. tear stained cheeks.
That was it. simple as it may seem. but far deeper than was comfortable.