Have you ever experienced loss? Whether we like it or not, losses are an integral part of our lives. We have to lose loved ones (be it death, divorce, the departure of a loved one.) We experience betrayal as a loss. Loss of trust and naivety. We lose our old body forever when we give birth to children. As we age, we gradually lose our youth and vitality. All these are natural processes. We can give many more examples of large and small losses that inevitably happen in our lives. And each such loss leaves a mark: wrinkles on the face, which we fill with expensive anti-aging creams and hyaluronic acid. Or we carefully disguise it with foundation. And a more significant mark is in our soul. Which we try to cope with in exactly the same way: we fill our lives with new people, new experiences. We carefully mask our pain with ostentatious success, indifference or cynicism. But every day, washing our face in the evening and removing numerous protective “camouflage” layers from ourselves, we see our face in the mirror. It is what it is. With all the traces of our losses. In the same way, being left alone with ourselves, when the day's troubles are left behind and social masks are removed until the next morning, we sometimes acutely feel our vulnerability and loneliness. This is when old, unhealed wounds make themselves felt. Wounds from our losses. This is the burden that accumulates with age. And sometimes it becomes overwhelming. Plunging a person into the abyss of depression, despair and meaninglessness. Depriving us of the opportunity to experience the joy of growth, development and victories. While our losses can become one of our greatest achievements... Yesterday one of my clients called me. About a year has passed since our last meeting. If she had not introduced herself, I would hardly have been able to recognize her. Her voice completely changed. From anxious, uncertain, lifeless, her voice became calm, deep and enveloping. He exuded happiness and stability. And joy. Not the euphoria and excitement of temporary success or luck. Behind which there is always fear: “all good things come to an end sooner or later.” But something deeper. The joy and happiness that comes from within. Which do not need external confirmation. But they always get them. She said that she got married two months ago and she and her husband are expecting a child. And then I asked her permission to share her story. Olya (I changed her name for privacy reasons) came to me about a year and a half ago. I remember the first time she walked into my office. Very thin and sad. The first epithet that comes to my mind with this memory is lifeless. It’s as if there was no life left in her. She looks like a beautiful, well-groomed young woman. But in her entire appearance there was so much sadness and disappointment. She seemed to bear the burden of bereavement and loneliness. And it, this burden, seemed incommensurably greater than herself. This is what a person experiences a loss looks like. Olya experienced the loss of love. After five years of a very difficult relationship with a man. Relationships with very strong emotional dependence. With constant jealousy, tension, fear and unbearable pain. With desperate attempts to improve this relationship and keep your loved one. After five years, he left her. I wrote above that Olya was experiencing the loss of love. No, that's not true. She began to experience the loss later. During our work. At the time she came to me. She wasn't worried yet. She tried with all her might to drown out the pain of this loss. She was still just defending herself from experiencing this loss. Having chosen for myself one of the methods of mental protection - rationalization. Starting my story with the words: “I understand with my mind that there is nothing special to worry about. There was still more bad than good in this relationship. And this man is far from my ideal, if you think soberly. And he has a lot of shortcomings. And he didn’t always treat me well. He lied and deceived, and was not particularly generous. And openly manipulated.