This is it. This is the reminder that is so important to get, not just as a music therapist but as a human being. That our lives influence even the ones we don't think about anymore.
Let's just call him Simon (no it's not Paul Simon). Problem is he has DID (Dissociative Identity Disorder aka Multiple Personality Disorder) and he has over 300 personalities (or alters as we call it), so one of them may very well be named Simon. But for the sake of making up a name let's just use that. I met Simon back in the day when I worked full time at the hospital on the trauma unit. He came in a mess, and when I did his assessment he sat cowering and crying in a corner of the room. His dissociation was uncontrollable and his history of physical, sexual, and emotional abuse was one of the worst I have ever heard. I won't even say it here in fear of tainting any reader's view of what kind of place this world is for some people. I remember how much it tested my optimism.
The program I worked on was made of a team of great therapists, doctors, and nurses. On this team it was my job to do the "fun stuff," the music, art, meditation, exercise, or anything else creative. Simon loved the music therapy groups. His dissociation would mellow out, and he would even smile at times just to hear live music. He's one of those people who carry their ipod on them so much that it becomes a part of them. So we related to each other as two music fanatics and he'd play me songs on his ipod that I just had to hear and during music therapy groups his enthusiasm for it was contagious to the other patients. I'll admit, part of why I liked working with him so much was that when he was in my group I was a big hit. Despite all that he had been through and his fragile psychological state, he could say that he was a person who loved listening to music.
I helped him work through some of his stress triggers, one of them being the word "relax." I didn't know this was a trigger until I did a relaxation group and he was nearly convulsing and crawling on the ground after having PTSD episode after some breathing exercise. He later told me that I kept saying the word "relax" which set him off. So together we brainstormed how I could avoid using the word "relax" in the relaxation groups and practiced staying grounded in case I accidentally let it slip out. It's easy to find synonyms for "relaxing" as an adjective but not so easy as a verb.
Simon came in and out of the program over the next couple of years and happened to be in when I resigned from the position to go travel the world. On my last day there, in my last group he refused to participate and sat in the back with his arms crossed, pouting. But when it was time for me to leave at the end of the day I came around to say good bye to everyone and he walked up to me with tears falling out of his eyes and he was able to express his gratitude and we parted with a warm hug.
Today when I saw him he was in a wheelchair since one of his alters has an eating disorder. I walked along side of him for a bit to catch up. We acknowledged that we may never see each other again and shared a nice moment of appreciation for each other. Thank you.
In my career I've witnessed all kinds of people crying, tears of joy and pain. But there is something about seeing a grown man in this state. Other than Simon I've seen the tears of a vice-principle, attorney, and a very large seven foot tall man. I don't TRY to do this it just happens, and I say go for it, let it out.
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