Two very old stories of loss, long forgotten, now coming to light.

I often have the sense that there is not enough time for me. Especially during psychotherapy sessions. Last week I got some insight into this during a session. I was already working very deeply, and the familiar thought arose, "there is not enough time". And I had the strong sense that when I was very young, there was a situation when someone was helping me but there was not enough time. And that today, I actually keep myself from participating fully in therapy so that time will run out -- because I want T, my therapist, to know how terrible that was -- to have someone helping me, but then running out of time. T said, "sounds like you lost someone". That felt true, though I couldn't think of any person I'd actually lost. I said, "yes, and I've been looking for them ever since." Earlier in the same session I was accessing a child state that was age 4-11: "during the time I was searching, but before I gave up."

The sound of a train whistle, especially when at a constant tone & not varying with the Doppler effect, brings to mind a state of extreme emergency and loss. Worked with this yesterday with T. He encouraged me to vocalize any images that came to mind. Train -- the engine car -- Southern Pacific train on tracks in Millbrae -- car -- the old beige Pontiac -- it's night -- or foggy -- I'm in the back seat behind the driver, age < 3 or even < 2 -- the train whistle -- or maybe the car horn -- a bright light like a headlight -- I'm screaming -- I'm completely on my own. Everything ended then and it hasn't been the same since.