Hannelie de Klerk

longing

lionsroar

I know that moving is high on the scale of stress and so is the death of parents and pets and friends, all of which has been part of my life since August last year. But I am longing for a little sanity. I miss my creative juices when relentless stress depletes my energy. I want to see a carving by the side of the road and make a lion roar with my camera. It will come in time, I know. I tell my people that every day, but maybe sometimes I also want to roar like a lion with frustration and just get away with it. Trouble is that I am likely to do it with a few quiet words and in writing, and so internally it ends up as a little whimper. What can I say? Be brave my soul, I need you for a little longer.

Moving

bush swagger

This weekend marks the transition of my moving from one psychotherapy office space to another. For the past five years I have steadily grown a wholesome healing space in a house we referred to as Saxon, the street name. From Tuesday I am booked to do sessions in a space that does not have a nickname yet, but which is appropriately located in Human Crescent. It is no longer a house, it is just an office attached to someone else’s home and I am having to do all kinds of internal adjustments to help myself think through what creates the healing space.  My years of dealing with a difficult profession has taught me to go back to basics when in doubt. I would love to offer on tap the magical ingredient where people can let go enough of their defences to talk through what is inside their psyches and leave feeling lighter, but often it is a combination of things that create that. The space must feel right, I must be clear-headed enough to listen well, they must feel safe enough to let go their hyper vigilant observance of the external world do develop eyes for the internal realm. I have actively worked in private practice as a psychotherapist for 22 years now, and this is going to be office number 5. I hope I learn from this experience. I will take this elephant as my totem, keeping a thick skin against the scratches, trampling down the tangled undergrowth, feeding because it is needed, teaching the young the pathways of doing things pragmatically, and never forgetting those who helped me on the journey. I thank you and know most of all that your well wishes for my continued professional capacity makes the difference to my ability to do the work. I am grateful to each of you who have moved through these steps with me and offered practical and moral support.