"Yeah, sure"

Did you ever see the movie, "The Bishop's Wife"? It's an 1940's movie, and they replay it every year around this time because it captures the magic of believing in the seemingly impossible. In the film, a bishop tries to get a new cathedral built. He prays for guidance and an angel (Carey Grant) arrives, but his guidance isn't about fundraising. Grant goes on to change the lives of the people in the church as well as the people in the community. Each one is transformed by his presence.

I use to say " yeah, sure" about angels, healers, or mystics. That was, until I started therapy again. I have been in therapy before, twice, and I always got alot out of it. My therapists have been thoughtful and insightful. But this time it has been different. Profoundly. I have been changed on nearly every front since the day I stepped into therapy. I don't mean that he (my therapist) gets out a wand, waves it and all is well. No; not at all. Rather inexplicably though, each week, the burdens that plagued me, have lifted.

 It started with my own fears about Diabetes. I couldn't sleep at night without experiencing terror. I would wake up at about 2 a.m. half awake and half asleep terrified of Diabetes. Afraid of every aspect of it. The blood sugars, the lows, the highs, the implications short term, long term, etc. Paralyzing. I would sweat, and my heart would pound. When I started therapy that all changed. Almost immediately the weight was lifted. I slept better. No more heart pounding at 2 a.m.

A huge ongoing fear has been the risk of my beloved son getting Type 1. I have been affected deeply by the worry that he, too, will become a Type 1. However, over the weeks that has improved. In recent days, my son has shown incredible strength and a discipline that makes him capable of managing anything that comes his way. He is one of the strongest people I know. While I dread the thought of Type 1 becoming his reality, I feel a sense of security that he, and we, will manage this no matter what.

My mom has Metastatic Cancer that nearly took her life a year and a half ago. In recent weeks it is like she has had a sort of  "remission". Not entirely of course, but enough so that we can just chat together without the dread of the next treatment or hospitalization rearing its ugly head. It has been a chance for the two of us to connect again before we have to say goodbye. Goodbye is inevitable. This therapy and this time isn't a cure-all. It is a chance to see things with clarity. To make memories and savor the moment.

And my husband, I adore him. He is dessert. I don't eat sweets, but I want to eat him.    I need him. He is my best friend and my soul mate. Calm has set in. He is at my side, and I treasure the warmth he brings me every day and night. The worries are still there, but they now provide me with a reminder to seize the moment.

There is no magic wand, and the ebb and flow of life will surely turn the tides on me again. But, this experience in therapy has left me believing in healers, mystics and angels who can help put you back together when you feel broken.

I am more prepared for the road ahead and less afraid of the dark. There is a light at the end of the tunnel...