Click of Recognition
Sometimes we recognize someone before we know their story—and our own.
Read or listen to this one—and notice the click.
I sat with someone recently that I recognized instantly. It felt as though I’d known them forever—but we’d never met before.
I keep thinking to myself what this means about me—and them.
I go back to the question I always ask when I meet a new client: “Why now?”
When I know the answer to this question, I know more about what they need in their healing.
In other words, what's the missing piece of the puzzle that they haven't quite found yet?
But there's also the question of why they‘ve come into my life at this particular moment in time.
Why now?
What’s the missing piece of my puzzle that they will help me find?
I think to myself that the answer to their question will come into focus when I find the missing piece within myself.
The search begins from the moment we meet—the first email or phone call reaching out to find a therapist. I stay focused on what’s happening within and between the lines… and hear that she never worked with a man before.
I acknowledge her courage in facing something that has been very painful for her.
As we sit down in person—face to face, I lean in as she reveals that she‘s struggling in her relationship with her father. She felt the closeness at first, but then it suddenly disappeared… like a death.
He was still alive… but something inside of her felt alone—without the light. It didn’t feel like she mattered anymore.
I then remember another client who internalized her experience with her father in a similar way. I wonder why I keep returning to this, as it’s something so many of us face in our lives… not just with our fathers.
Sadly enough… I think I just answered my question. It’s because I’ve also dealt with abandonment in my life. And I’m afraid I’ve transferred it to my own kids, who are now adults… with families of their own.
Strange that I’m writing this on Father’s Day. I think about the beautiful card from my loving wife, and how she knew when she met me that I was the kind of man that she was looking for in her life.
No…not exactly, but she knew I was different, not just a guy in a plaid suit. She knew she needed to trust herself to learn more—opening a similar door within myself.
Anyway, I really miss the connection with our kids today. I received the usual holiday texts, so I know that they’re thinking about me. They live far away… and I wonder if they’re okay. I hold the light but never stop worrying. Always their dad, I guess—no matter how old they are… or how old I get.
I keep looking outside to see if the little birdie that had camped out on my front porch is still there... No, just an empty nest waiting patiently for it’s familiar occupant—inside and out.
It‘s raining on and off all day, and I feel a little weepy. My wife is away taking care of her hair and groceries. I do the laundry and catch up on chores. A part of me feels good getting some tangible results for my efforts. Another part is a little lost.
Out of the blue, I receive a message from my sweet 11-year-old granddaughter, Bess, wishing me a happy Father’s Day. We text a bit, and I ask if she and her younger sister are letting their dad know how important he is to them. She says that they are, and she puts a heart on my message to her. I feel the connection… the click in my heart. I sense that she does too.
Like her namesake—my mom, Nana Bess—she’s been that bridge in our family, not just appreciating our recognition of her… but reaching out to recognize us. As my mom used to say, “It’s the little things that matter most. Those who really love you have a way of showing up when you need them most.”
She was right again. Some of the big birds fly away... I wish we had more time.
Here we go… another connection to the missing piece of the puzzle. Now I know more about mine, and the pain that‘s still there. There just wasn’t enough time.
I’m the only one left in the nest now, but some of the birdies will always live in my heart.
I think I need to make more room for my client’s pain. I don’t know the whole story yet, but when she shares it with me, I sense that my heart will be more open to the connections within and between.
I know that she matters and always has. But I want her to feel the click… not just because I recognize her, but because she knows, deep inside, she’s been recognized.
I really want to make sure that piece of the puzzle will stick. I may need to spend a little more time with the surrounding scenery, so she can feel the piece as part of the whole… her wholeness. Mine too.
It clicks that she needs to finish this puzzle, so she can move on. There’s more to do… more puzzles—just life.
Aha… that’s why she came into my life too. Instant recognition… the click, the Core Self. The story comes later.
P.S. It’s 3:00 AM, the morning after. Awakening suddenly, I feel the click. I send a message to each of my kids… sharing the light in my heart.
I’m feeling the warmth inside and between. The ice is cracking… and the light of invisibility is starting to shine through the clouds.
If you like, take a moment—now or later—and ask yourself, “Why now?”
When it feels right, let someone close to your heart know the answer—even in your imagination. Maybe someone who needs that recognition. Reach out and feel their hand. Perhaps your own little one left behind.
Notice the click of recognition—now the hands are touching… connecting you through time. The pieces are coming together... for me too.
These are the glimmers of our Core Self that we’re remembering as we connect with the person in front of us we think we’ve met before—maybe a lifetime… maybe more. Like travelers on a journey connecting in time.
With the sun resting, the little birdie is back in the nest now. Despite the darkness, they could see the light… and remembered how to get back home.
I hope you will, too. You’ll know… when you see us walking together toward the light.
Maybe your mom is walking with your dad… your siblings. Maybe a grandparent or special family friend... your friend, too. Look closely… Perhaps a few others close to heart are also there—shining in the light.
That’s the click. We are home now… realizing that we’ve been here all along.
No longer alone… another new beginning—opening the door to more.
Together through time.
Dedication: To all those who take the time to notice the click—helping us find ourselves and one another again. Take comfort in these words if it’s ever hard to find your own.
Gratitude: With appreciation for those who have shared their light and sweetness with me over the years—and received mine in return.
Confidentiality note: This piece was inspired by someone close to my heart, but is a composite of many people I know—inside and outside of therapy. Any resemblance to your own life or our shared experience is both coincidental and universal—reminding us that our stories echo one another in the fabric of human experience.
Comments or questions? You’re welcome to reach me at mcecilvt@aol.com. Feel free to share these words—and this blog—with anyone you hold close… or long to be closer to.
About me: Besides being a writer, Marc Cecil is a doctoral-level licensed psychologist, certified AEDP supervisor, approved EMDR consultant, and senior CSRT consultant. An experienced psychotherapist, supervisor, consultant, and teacher, Marc uses an integrated experiential model called Core Self Integration Therapy (CSIT)—grounded in our capacity for adaptive change—to help people heal from complex relational, developmental, and transgenerational trauma. Some refer to it as Elephant Work.
Dr. Cecil lives in Vermont near the shores of Lake Bomoseen, where his heartfelt stories and images of connection arise from the light of invisibility—bringing life to therapy and therapy to life.