sammers's Journal

Just got back from an EMDR session with the Pshrink...

Funnily enough, I went in thinking that I could let go a little, and maybe only go once a month, since I felt so good, and there isnt an endless money pit in my work healthcare scheme.

Didnt take me long to debunk myself of that particular myth.

"So Mark, what shall we work on today ?"

"Dont know really. I feel pretty good and we seem to have covered most of the stuff previously..."

"Lets talk about your friend's plane crash then. That seems a goos starting point."

Yeah. Good starting point. NOT !

we started the EMDR machine, and I suddenly picture myself on hands and knees, crawling through this mountain bog, and no matter how hard I try, I cant move the picture forward to the point where I find his head. I stick at this for about two or three tries, when suddenly, I get hit by an image of the tail section of his aircraft, sat there in one peice on the hill. The almost duck egg blue of the horizontal surfaces and rear fuselage, and the beautiful black vertical stabiliser with the tiger's head in the middle. I see it in such hi def that I am there all over again. I see it sway as they lift it with a crane up onto a low loader lorry, and suddenly the replay of the memories seems to fast forward.

I'm crawling again. My hands grab something under the surface of the water / mud. I pull it up and it's a helmet, soaking, part of his head still inside. I can remember the sucking, oozing feeling of the mud, and the way I held it out before me and the feeling of disgust and revulsion. Then the feeling of shock realising it's my friend. It goes into a bag...

He then asks me to concentrate on that, to really think about the feelings I'm getting, so we start the lights and tones again.

All I can see are my hands. I am looking at them and it's like I'm there. They are covered in mud, and pieces of him. It's so disgusting it makes me feel sick. I cant get them clean. There's not any clean water, and the mud infront of me has him in it too... I'm trying to wipe them off in some mud, failing... Just fixating on the mess they are in. We must have gone through three or four sets before there was any change from that... I wiped them on my trousers. I couldnt stand them to be covered in his remains.

Then I saw myself that night. Alone on guard duty, in the pitch black. Nothing except my thoughts and memories to accompany me. I just looked at myself... I felt so sad. Then I seemed to jump to an image of me telling my family what had happened and how I made such a big joke out of it. I laughed, and took the piss, and bullshitted because that's what people want to hear. I looked at that memory of myself and realised that all I really wanted was a hug.

We pretty much finished up there, and I got myself calmed down a little. He asked me what I'd tell myself if I was able to go back... The question made me feel a little sad, and he set off the lights and tones again.

Suddenly, I was hit by sadness and grief so hard I coulndt believe it. I saw myself as I was then. A boy in a uniform, doing a job so shitty that no-one should ever have to do it. I just wanted to reach out and give myself a hug. Tell myself that it's okay. I didnt know any better how to cope with it, that the joking and laughing was just how the forces cope. I couldnt help myself. I cried my eyes out. I was grieving for my mate, and also for the boy I was looking at. I realised that I should have talked to my dad at the time. He was the only one who'd understand. He would have held me and told me it's normal to feel that way. That I dont have to put on the big front.

Eventually the sadness subsided. I still feel really thoughtful and reflective 3 hours later. I told my wife, and she just nodded at the bit about my hands. She's always said I have a mania about clean hands. Another box ticked...

So I have another appointment next week. I genuinely dont know what else I'll find. This has been a roller coaster so far and I dont know where the end is.