Sometimes, the best way to start a post, or writing in general, is simply by starting.
I’ve thought about different ways to start writing today, and all that’s done is make me not want to write. So, here I am. Starting.
Therapy last night went well. It felt productive and helpful and like we covered a lot…even though a lot of the time it really just feels like I’m talking about everything and nothing all at the same time.
We talked about my trips coming up, and some anxieties surrounding that…specifically about drinking. And how to not drink…while trying to also not die.
We also talked about just the general stress and anxiety of being a introvert thrown into a very social situation with 13 other complete strangers who are supposed to turn into lifelong friends (no pressure there). Well, to be fair, I do already know one of them from my retreat trip in May. So that’s comforting.
And of course, we talked about my dang kids. About how my baby, now that he’s 10 months old, is showing more and more symptoms of his inherited genetic disorder.
But, because we already know that he has the same condition as myself and my 2 older boys…and he’s now acting and looking like it…I’m just not sure if I’m supposed to be concerned? Like, yes…I’m concerned about him. But is this something to be concerned about extra?
I have no idea how to explain it, I know this probably makes no sense. He has a diagnosis equivalent of muscular dystrophy. And now he’s suddenly showing a lot more weakness.
But I just don’t want to chalk everything up to his already existing diagnosis, and miss something. Like, there’s been some concerns about his vision lately, and I hadn’t even considered that.
So…I’m sitting at the doctors office this morning just to make sure I’m not overlooking anything, like, maybe he just can’t see! Who knows.
We also, of course, talked about my oldest son, and different things I can do or try to hold the boundaries better with him.
Overall it went well, we talked about a lot, and she only yelled at me a little bit. Come on, it wouldn’t be therapy if she didn’t yell at me about something every now and then. 😂
I’m always grateful that she allows me to come in for 2 hours every week and just…whatever it turns into, it turns into.
I always have a lot to say and a lot to feel, and it’s hard when those words and feelings have nowhere safe to go