I went to therapy today for the first time in two years. First, some context. I'm a social worker. I'm a strong proponent of mental health. And part of me believes that because I know and have all these skills, I should be able to work things out on my own. Number one, that statement could not be further from the truth. God has designed us for relationship and community. You were not designed to walk through life alone. But all that to say, if I'm going to therapy, as much as I believe in it, you know it's because I'm at my end. And I was. No more rope left, no more wick...what's that saying? Who cares, I was spent. So I went and saw her.
The drive to my therapist's office was ridden with shame, with guilt. Why am I going? Of course I'm stressed, we've been sick for months, I'm exhausted, these are all normal things. Dumb. What is she going to think? How can I help this girl with NORMAL problems? But then I walked in and was greeted with the upfront, bold therapist I instantly loved from years ago. P.S. My therapist is not a soft spoken, tell me how you're feeling, type. She is gentle when I cry, bold when I'm angry, listens all the time, but has NO problem adding her two sense, or humor. I appreciate a strong personality. That's why I came back. I caught her up to speed with new life changes, we talked about new baby, new house, new job, new challenges in my marriage, and my overall feeling of anxiety from being overwhelmed. I said through tears, "I do so fucking much, I don't even know where to start." And cue floodgates. I try not to curse often. I think it's dumb, but lately the f word is the only constant word going on in my head. It's the stress. She didn't judge me though. She sympathized, she empathized, she validated that this stage of life is extremely stressful and that I'm not the only one who has ever or is even currently going through this. So it was one session, and I walked away with some homework.
If there's anything I enjoy, it's being reflective and learning more about thought process. I always want to better myself--I just don't always say it in those words. So I drove back feeling instant relief. Not 100%, but definitely like 50-60% of my sanity had returned. One of the things we talked about was having this need to do it all myself. Have you felt that? I mean, WHAT IS THAT?! Why on earth do we (moms or dads or just people in general) have this feeling like we have to get the list done each and every day? I didn't realize what a problem it was for me until today when I caught myself every. single. time. I didn't want to let go of control several minutes of every hour. And what compounds the issue is, if it doesn't get done the way I want, or sometimes even if it's done the way I want but not by me, I have intense guilt about it. Tell me I'm not the only one. I realize it's ridiculous, but I'm being honest. I'm a mom that wants, in a perfect world, my children to eat only healthy things, have beautifully prepared meals each day, baby to drink only the very best breast milk packed with nutrients for his growing body, a nap and sleep schedule to be followed perfectly to the t, no one to get sick, a thriving marriage, a healthy spiritual life, friends all over the place, time to invest in every friendship, clothes that fit, a tummy that doesn't look like I just birthed the largest bowling ball known to mankind, hair that cooperates, work that is done faster than I expected, more money that I was expecting...I mean, the list goes on! And no one can live up to those standards. Notice I didn't say anything about a clean house. I have all but given up on my house. But really, why the guilt? Truth is, I don't know. I don't know why I can't rely easily on others for help, even though I'm better than I used to be. I don't know why it's so difficult for me to feel like I have to be the best at everything, do all things with a sweet demeanor, and have time for eyeliner. Why?
My therapist also said something pretty remarkable. She encouraged me to multitask in a different way. Instead of cleaning the house and making dinner, maybe I should nurse baby and cuddle D at the same time. She said your kids need your physical love at this age. Duh. Why didn't I think of that. I've been working on that more recently because Patrick told me the same thing, so I've really been trying to be cuddly with my 3 year old. And it's hard when you can't use the sink because there are so many dishes, or have no clean clothes as the laundry sits in a jabadahut pile on the floor. But I'm the one who wants these memories with my family, I have to create them, I have to be in them. So that's my goal: letting go of control long enough to capture the beautiful moment for future recall. I don't want my kids to remember their mom as the clean nazi that was always doing dishes or had her back turned from them to fold the clothes. I want them to remember a mom that threw the ball and got down on the floor to play. That's the mom I am, and want to keep being.
The issue isn't solved. I still feel like I'm in a fog of sorts. I still feel waves of anxiety or feelings of being overwhelmed, but like anything you take it one moment at a time, right? That's my approach. Because I'm tired of just barely hanging on. I'm tired of...ha ha, my eyes are heavy...I'm just tired!! So, I leave you with this thought...what one thing do you need to let go? I could write a list longer than jolly old St. Nicholas has of his naughty AND nice kids. But the best place to start is with just one.
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