Christiane H. Schleidt, Akademie für Psychoanalyse und Psychotherapie Munich The morning started with heavy rain. ‘The morning began with heavy rain showers,’ she had translated the English text, but was dissatisfied. She didn't like the word rain shower. What's more, the plural form seemed so emotionless. An impersonal, technical word. Neverending rain expressed the feeling she had had for weeks much better. It was the Never-ending. The whole summer had been rainy. It weighed heavily on her. It didn't just rain in the morning. It rained at noon and in the afternoon, and in the morning, and in the evening and at night and early in the morning, and late in the morning. It was the rain of the century. And that one sentence changed her life. She no longer wanted to earn her money by transforming one language into another. Nor did she want to earn her money by helping other people bring their texts to an audience in another country. She was startled at herself for wanting to take her life in a different direction so unexpectedly. What this continuous rain of the last few weeks had softened in her. Dripping, like a wet jumper that you take off because you are soaked to the skin, because you were surprised by the sudden rain shower, her life had softened. Now she knew it. A rain shower always comes suddenly. Heavy rain is not a sudden event. You wake up in the morning to the sound of endless rain. It's as if the rain has entered your dreams. A shower is always an unexpected event. But her realisation was like a shower of rain. Suddenly she knew that things couldn't go on like this. She wanted to take off her wet jumper and rub her wet skin dry with a towel. Bianca Isabella Christine Tiator, German Psychoanalytical Association; Mainz Psychoanalytical Institute THE MORNING STARTED WITH HEAVY RAIN. It was heavily hard to open my eyes. They felt like huge cart wheels or drawbridges that had to be pulled up with iron chains and the strength of giant mountain trolls. The pattering rain beat heavily against the pane of my skylight. It was a loud, heavy shower, from the sound of it, it could have been hailstones. Dark clouds hung heavy in the sky and nothing, absolutely nothing, made it easier for me to get up. If the weather outside was so bad anyway, what was the point of getting up at all? What for? I admitted to myself that I felt a kind of light relief because I couldn't go jogging in such bad weather. Yes, it would even be dangerous, and one should set a good example and just stay at home! It would be downright reckless to go outside! Leicht-Sinn… [1] Schwer-Sinn… [2] So Leichtsinn could have killed me today. Hard to imagine, but after about 3 hours these thoughts made it easier for me to actually get out of bed. I shuffled into the kitchen with heavy limbs, sat down on the corner bench and wrote in my diary in English words: ‘The morning started with heavy rain.’ Yes, sometimes I found it easier to express difficult things in English words. And what else could you say about this Sunday morning other than that it was difficult/heavy? [3]
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