When therapy goes well, everything else seems to go well, too. Last night, thankfully, therapy went well.
And by “went well”, I don’t mean that’s she’s “nice” to me, or easy on me, or anything like that…(although that is always preferred)…I mean that we end up having a good conversation, I don’t feel overly anxious or terrible, and when I leave… I feel more hopeful, instead of hopeless and horrible about myself. And slightly less alone.
That’s how it went last night. We had a good conversation, things made sense, and I left feeling better.
That’s not to say that it was easy. “Good” does not necessarily mean easy. It was still difficult…but difficult in a good way.
We talked about control (again), and how it’s just SO hard for me to let go. Because the pain of letting go of control and going through that process is scary and painful and difficult…and it’s not something I’m well practiced in.
I still struggle A LOT with the idea and concept of “help”. In my head, “help” should be helpful. Meaning…done exactly the same way that I would do something.
But apparently, that’s just not realistic. While things aren’t bad between my husband and I (and we actually had a great night together last night after therapy), things could certainly be better.
We falter in times of stress, and we don’t always approach things in the right way. And with a third baby being added into the mix very soon…well…there will certainly be no shortage of stress.
Towards the end, I mentioned how it would be hard because I “didn’t know how I would feel once he’s born”. And she very quickly reminded me that “we didn’t talk about feelings today”. Because it doesn’t matter how I feel about it…we pretty much already know how I’ll feel. We’ve been down this road before.
I need to make a conscious, decided effort to let things go…to give up control. And to accept that other people will do things differently than I do. Regardless of how I feel about it.
I’ll try. It makes sense, and I know she’s right.
We also talked about drinking, and what that’s going to look like once the baby is born and, well, my body is my own again. The truth is, I’ve been down this road before. 3 times now.
And each time, it seems I’ve crashed harder and faster than the time before. Every time I’m not pregnant anymore, it just seems to be a faster, and much worse, process. It’s something that scares me a lot.
I brought up the fact that now, I might have some permanent heart conditions due to my progressive neuromuscular condition combined with pregnancy, and I wondered if that would be enough to get me to stop drinking.
If nothing else has ever been enough in the past, what would make this be different? Would a permanent health condition be enough? I’m honestly not sure. I’m not sure why that would suddenly be enough, when nothing else has been before.
She said it comes down to a decision. Either I’m going to decide to try, or I’m not. But it really doesn’t feel like a decision. It feels bigger than that…doesn’t it? Like, it can’t possibly be as simple as a decision.
It’s a hard road, and she’s not shy about reminding me of that. But she’s also quick to get me to remember all of the ways that my life was a fucking disaster when my drinking was bad. Trust me, it was bad.
There are so many things that are out of my control. And drinking feels like one of them. But it feels like if it’s not alcohol, it will be something. And, as I very gracefully said in therapy last night…at least I know how to drink. And maybe that’s “safer” than transferring my addiction to something else, possibly worse, that I’m not as “good” at.
I still have a lot to figure out. I know that. And I know that I’m running out of time.
For now, for today, I’m just grateful that therapy went well last night, and that I left feeling better than I went there feeling.
Sometimes life is about little wins. And little or not, a good day in therapy is a win I’ll gladly take.