Going back to Japan: Self-induced therapy

I wasn't entirely being honest when I said to date there has been no tears since returning from Japan.  Let me explain.

My first day home I treated myself to a hair cut (much needed after two months) and a happy day with my favorite manicurist.  Both my hair maestro and my manicurist asked me how I was.

"Fine."  It was the easiest answer to give, considering I had just returned and didn't know which side was up.  Then came the questions.  I quickly found myself choked up.

"I can't talk about it," was what I managed to get out before the tears came.  I actually had to leave the manicure table to go outside to cry (I really don't cry in front of others) and my old Italian hair man quickly said in his most accented voice, "So sorry, sweetheart.  We can talk when you're ready."

I bring this up for two reasons.  I was relaying this story to a client tonight over dinner and found myself getting choked up again, embarrassingly so, and had to excuse myself again before the floodgates opened in public.  I was also having a conversation with a dear friend on the way home from dinner, who, in her infinite wisdom said, "You managed to push those feelings way down while you were in Japan.  No wonder they're stuck."

Stuck is the operative word.  My feelings are stuck.  I'm stuck.  Not one to do nothing, I am taking action.  I will next embark on what I call a journey of self-induced therapy.  My husband is on board.  Hands down, this man walks on water.  Convincing my son is a different story.  He is reluctant to let me go down this road.  Why?  Self-induced therapy means I go back to Japan.  Clearly I have unfinished business there and I am convinced only there can I process what I went through for seven weeks.

This time around I will not spend my entire time in Iwate, although I will make a trip up there.  I consider this a pilgrimage of sorts.  I need to let the restless spirits within me rest.  I will find a time and space to cry (alone, hopefully) and I will leave behind my grief, pain and sadness.  I will bring home with me memories, renewed energy and the strength that comes with this to move forward.  I will unleash my demons so I can actually sleep through the night, not tossing and turning with my vivid dreams and stealing covers from my husband.

I will be me again when I come back, albeit a new, better and much improved version of me.  This, I can do.  This, I look forward to.