My therapist died one week after I finished my book.

Demoralizing is not the word. Harry died on Tuesday morning -- right in the middle of the session. Thank God, it was not my session. This was a horrible time for Harry to die, right before the holiday season, just when I finished my book. Harry had some horrible muscle eating disease, his entire life was painful. It was a horrible way to die, especially if you happened to be the client who witnessed his last struggling breath.

Devastating is not the word.

My head was always full of ideas -- one idea was that I would carry on and pretend that Harry was still alive -- grab life like a bullet – act the hero – the reality pathetic, illusionary nonsense. Like picking up broken burning candles dripping hot wax as the pieces slip through your fingers -- there is never a good grasp.

This all happened during the nightmare tour..… when my mind fell off the stage for a while. I went to visit Harry and he fixed me… he told me it was okay to be me… it was okay to be free... to find out exactly who you were meant to be.



There was this moment…. right before her mind let go…… before the cerebral meltdown… when she could not see the patterns and the colors did not matter. Shapes in front of her eyes were difficult to discern and were in fact, different in appearance than yesterday. It was impossible to reconcile the moment. There was this dualism of seeing the before and the after at the same moment simultaneously, without any loyalty to the past or the present.

There was this stretch in time as her mind let go….. this keen vision of awareness pulling back from the picture right in front of her. Reality became that she could not leave the picture or she would leave it at a moment’s notice. This was empowering and unnerving……. hallucinatory and bewildering. She told all this to her shrink Harry…. that perhaps she should stay and visit her life for awhile.

She was powerless to shed light on her own situation and that is why she talked to Harry. Together, they simply watched her life unfold. Alternative days she would prevail, then falter…. sometimes she would stumble…… slightly then tumble down the volcanic spiral cliff.

She felt the need to overcome this crazy disease that had attacked her mind --   her private subterranean refuge robbing her soul of hope. She felt alone, she felt completely abandoned. She wanted to end her life.

She needed to escape the collapse of her brain.