The Unseen Struggle of Connection - Diana, 71y

No matter how Diana feels, she always enters with a smile, making eye contact as she greets me warmly. Her presence is always comforting and familiar. We hadn't seen each other for a month due to overlapping holidays, and I'm happy she's here. Her commitment to therapy over the past year and a half is admirable, and it's as if our connection has a depth that extends beyond the time we've spent together.

I believe that's largely due to her approachable and welcoming nature.

I don't sense a strong desire from her for me to guide her through therapy. In her 71 years, she's overcome more challenges than I can fathom and possesses all the skills necessary to navigate life. She's an incredibly intelligent and compassionate soul. She adores diving into the world of books, embarks on solo adventures across the world, and goes on 3 hour drives just to help her daughter. Her deep understanding of classical music is truly remarkable. In the community garden, she tends to each plant with such care, knowing their individual traits and needs. She's always ready to lend a helping hand to anyone she meets. It always humbles me to be in her presence, getting inspired by her stories. Although she wouldn't even believe it if I would tell her ;)

Today, she handed me two articles and politely asked me to read them. Sharing articles and books has evolved into her unique way of sharing the thoughts she finds challenging to discuss openly. I wholeheartedly embrace it. As a booklover, it enriches our conversations, allowing us to delve into deep discussions using the characters and ideas from the pages. It's a beautiful way to communicate those delicate, vulnerable aspects of ourselves that may be difficult to put into words. Without delay, she added, "You don't have to, of course, or you can read them during our time here, I don't want to take your private time." This remark embodies her character. Receiving help isn't her strongest suit; she prefers to be the helper because that's what she's accustomed to. She always had to be the strong one, the one who helps the other. A necessary coping mechanism that has served her well for a long time. Being the one who helps others has become her safe space. But there are moments when it feels like the most challenging, lonely and heart-wrenching place to be. Especially when you're struggling to accept help from others. She has learned how to fit in by changing who she is, by focussing on the other(s), but she doesn't know how to truly belong, how to be accepted for who she is. In one-sided relationships, people become lonely.

And that's what the articles were about... About loneliness, about getting older. And, as the article stated, the meaninglessness that comes along with it. At least in the western society where you're only valuable when you can be 'productive enough', when you can exchange your services for money. I could discuss this topic for hours because it really touches me. To me, wisdom comes with the experience of people, and the stories and lessons that come along. I feel like so many people could benefit from having conversations with life experienced people, no matter their age.

I listen to her as she talks to me about feeling lonely, not believing people truly love her for who she is, since she's used to gaining love through pleasing and helping others. Who is she when there's no one to take care of? What's left of her when her voice goes unheard? Who is she when there are no more (grand)kids, or partner to take care of, or a job to go to, but especially, who is she when she'll be the one others need to take care of?

She stops talking, her eyes well up with tears.

In this very moment, it's just the two of us, speaking volumes with the unspoken words between us.

I thank her for opening up to me, knowing how vulnerable it feels, and how much courage it takes to talk about your biggest fear. It's a hard thing to do even for yourself, let alone out loud in front of someone else. But today, she didn't need the articles.

As I pedaled my way back home that evening, an unexpected urge led me to make a detour to my 77-year-old aunt's house. I embraced her tightly, silently hoping she knows how much she means to me. At that moment I thought about Diana and wished she'd knew the meaning our shared moments hold in my heart.