The song “Watershed” by The Indigo Girls is pretty much ruined for me forever. I loved it once, and it gave me great comfort in the tumultuous summer of 1994 when a major love affair ended. I grieved over that affair for years. Until I decided one day to just stop grieving. Because if I didn’t make that decision, I would grieve forever.
Don’t ever believe anyone when they tell you time heals.
Time heals, yes, but it heals imperfectly. It’s one of my bones to pick with therapy – the belief that you can become whole again, that you can completely smooth over scars. Not fucking true.
Anyway. I realized: All righty then, time isn’t doing diddly-squat, so I better just move on, and close the door, FORCE IT SHUT.
But during the first months of searing sadness – I listened to “Watershed” almost every day. The lyrics struck me as enormously comforting, and wise.
Finally – the Watershed passed.
Years later I whipped out that Indigo Girls tape, all in innocence. The rest of the album was fine, I had no flashbacks.
I was walking on 13th Street, in between 6th and 7th – right in front of Cafe Loup – a restaurant on the north side of the street – and the first chords of “Watershed” came – and literally – my knees gave out.
I’ve never known what “my knees went weak” really meant until that moment. I completely lost my balance, and sat down on a fire hydrant.
Feeling … absolutely insane, truth be told.
And so I’ve never listened to the song since.
Thought I knew my mind like the back of my hand,
The gold and the rainbow, but nothing panned out as I planned.
And they say only milk and honey’s gonna make your soul satisfied!
Well I better learn how to swim
Cause the crossing is chilly and wide.
Twisted guardrail on the highway, broken glass on the cement
A ghost of someone’s tragedy
How recklessly my time has been spent.
And they say that it’s never too late, but you don’t get any younger!
Well I better learn how to starve the emptiness
And feed the hunger
Up on the watershed, standing at the fork in the road
You can stand there and agonize
Till your agony’s your heaviest load.
You’ll never fly as the crow flies, get used to a country mile.
When you’re learning to face the path at your pace
Every choice is worth your while.
Well there’s always retrospect to light a clearer path
Every five years or so I look back on my life
And I have a good laugh.
You start at the top, go full circle round
Catch a breeze, take a spill
But ending up where i started again makes me wanna stand still.
Stepping on a crack, breaking up and looking back
Every tree limb overhead just seems to sit and wait.
Until every step you take becomes a twist of fate.
Ack, don’t get me started on the myths of therapy.
Sad music – now THAT’s good therapy.
I actually WOULD like to get you started on the myths of therapy!! It’s something I’ve never really written about – I have strong feelings about it, however.
Well I don’t have a lot of cogent thoughts on it, just a sneaking suspicion that 90% of it is b.s., especially as it relates to recovering from grief/trauma.
Which I suppose has something to do weith our society’s complete unwillingness to do deal with/face up to death in any meaningful way.
I’m a veteran of years of therapy. I have many thoughts on it.
I need to be careful though – because therapy has most definitely saved people’s lives – I know some of them.
But yes – when it comes to grief counseling, or serious trauma – I think therapy is useless. The natural processes of the psyche should be allowed to run their course, and denial should not be scorned, but embraced. In my humble opinion.
I can’t listen to the Indigo Girls without dredging up painful high school memories either. Probably because every single female I knew back then was obsessed with them.
Wait: correction:
No, therapy is not “useless” in grief or trauma. That is too general.
If you have a good therapist – it can absolutely be a life-saver.
But if you do not – it can do more harm than good.
And also: there should be no myth that you can ever be whole again. Wholeness is over-rated. Therapy is too concerned with fixing things, with trying to correct what is after all a relatively messy business: life.
Psychiatry is a whole different ballgame – because they are primarily concerned with medical and clinical issues. I’ve been to psychiatrists as well – and in general, have had a much better time of it.
They are doctors.
“How are you sleeping? Are you eating? How’s your energy?”
These are symptoms that actually can be addressed.
Okay. Obviously I need to write a post on this.
I still love the Indigo Girls – but I can only listen to them in certain moods – and I can’t ever listen to Watershed again. :)
“And also: there should be no myth that you can ever be whole again. Wholeness is over-rated. Therapy is too concerned with fixing things, with trying to correct what is after all a relatively messy business: life.”
That’s my big issue – folks who sell the idea of closure etc. – the notion that you can get over something and dance on down the lane of your life like mothing ever happened. And that if you DON’T do that, well you’re ‘defective’ or something.
Who needs therapy when you can just blog?
Jess:
Exactly. Express it, move on, buh-bye.
Best commentary on therapy = Mel Brooks’s High Anxiety, his tribute to Hitchcock.
I think I’ll leave off any long-winded comments ’til Sheila writes up a post, but seeking counseling on some specific issues was one of the best things I’ve ever done. And I think pursuing wholeness is a worthwhile endeavor, I just hope I’m not under the illusion that I’ll get there.
Jackstraw:
I really want to make it clear (and I’ll write a post about it eventually) that this is just what worked for ME. The human psyche is an amazingly complex thing – and what works for one will not work for another.
I absolutely agree that therapy can work WONDERS for people – I know many of them. And it’s not that I didn’t get anything out of it. I most certainly did.
So I don’t want to paint this thing with too wide a brush.
I really really REALLY (ha!) want people to get that this is just my opinion, based on my own personal experiences.
Also: huge difference, again, between therapy and psychiatry.
Clinical depression needs to be treated like a medical issue, and taken as seriously as any other medical issue.
Honestly, I believe that if I had gotten on drugs years ago – as opposed to being in just plain old therapy for years – I think I might have been better off.
But again – just speculating.
Yes. Must definitely write a post on this. I can feel it bubbling up!
I took what you wrote as some initial thoughts on a topic you have some personal experience with, no more “broad brush” than that.
This is such in interesting thread. A PhD in psychology once told me that only about 10% of the population is able to resolve issues without medication. I am a huge believer in appropriate medication, and in alternative therapies. I don’t have much patience with Psychologists and talk therapy. Give me medicine or give me a shaman … or even better – both! :)
Since I am a hypnotist I have to say that there are AMAZING things that alternative therapies can do to help people move through grief. Hypnosis, EMDR, Emotional Freedom technique all offer ways to ease a person through the process. But it is a process and it takes time and you do have to be really careful about who you choose to work with.
AND the whole myth about being exactly as you were before the crisis is complete balony. You can completely recover, and maybe be even better than before, but you will always bear scars. These deep soul bondings never leave you. I just try to help people be at peace with the “marks of their passing.” Be completely at ease with what is.
Jeez, Liz – sounds like I could have used you a couple years ago! I don’t know much about hypnotism – but therapy didn’t help me get over the loss of that damn man at ALL. Nothing helped.
Also, and this is perhaps just the perspective of someone who is an actress and a writer (and this is a pretty common belief amongst us artistic types):
That which is incomplete and unfinished in us is where our talent comes from – or where our need to be artists come from. If James Joyce were totally “healed” by being so rejected from his home country, then … er … he wouldn’t have written any of his great books.
Know what I mean?
Yeah – I know exactly what you mean, but for some people, unresolved stuff is fuel and for others its a blockage. And I love that – that one gal’s medicine is another’s poison. For me, getting major chunks of old crap cleared out made me 100 times more creative and energetic. For someone else, it wouldn’t work that way.
I love your blog!
Hey Red,
I had a similar experience last year when I was driving to my mom’s house and heard “The Town I Loved So Well” on FUV (they play Irish music on Sundays). I hadn’t heard it in many years and I fell apart sitting in my car parked in my mom’s driveway and missing my dad. The song ended and I dried up, got normal, and went inside like “Hey! How ya doin?!” and one of my sisters was like, “What’s wrong?”