Therapy

When I joined the mormon cult, I had been seeing a psychotherapist for a year.  That is what normal people do when going through big life changes, right?  Well... I mentioned it once in my "Institute" class.  I sat in the back (all the better for Valerie to play in her princess tent and read her books and watch her portable DVD player (what the hell was WRONG with me?!) every Wednesday night)- and I could see the people in front of me.  Several of them looked at each other like I was telling them something humiliating.

Anyway, I went to Heather for another year- as I was definitely not embarrassed- and we made a lot of progress.  She told me I was her favorite client ever.  She still writes to me.

I have not been to therapy for a while, but in December (ah, December), I started thinking about it.

In January, I mentioned it again in my facebook group that has only close friends.  There are some amazingly wise people in that group- including a PhD psychologist.

They are my friends.  They all made suggestions, so... I got online, found a CBT PhD psychologist who is not religious.  I came up with Maria Whitlock.  She is a gem.
I chose her randomly, really (much like I chose Heather), and she is a dream.

She is my age, very wise, very smart, very kind, very invested, hilarious and so, so intense sometimes.

We have been talking about things that would come as no surprise to anyone yesterday.  This after my thoughtful blog post...  We spent most of the time talking about the summer and my parenting concerns.

At the end though... such amazing conversation.

"I am not much like my mom... or really anyone in my family... I am just different... "

We had been talking about how to pull one's self up after devastation.  After feeling like utterly and completely and totally just giving up, giving in...

I told her I want to quit  so often, but I can't.

"It is like this morning, I was sad, angry, feeling like no one loves me and I picked up Asher.  I held him tight, and he started patting my back and telling me *he* loves me.  I cried.  I kissed him.  And I vowed to kick butt today.  And I have.  I get knocked down, but I am not down for long."

 "that is why you get up.  you love your children more than yourself."

" Crystal.  There are not many people in your family like you.  There are not many people in THIS WORLD like you."

Sometimes, I know that.  I know that I am not "normal" in one good way- and it is this compulsion to triumph and love and live and get back up and... inspire someone to do that same when they too feel hopeless. Despite feeling hopeless, I should say.  Most of the time that I pick myself up, I am just sure there is not a lot of hope out there, but maybe...

Maria then said something that just made me makes me cry and cry.

"You have always had this. What kindergarten girl gets herself up in the morning while her parents stay in bed, and feeds herself, dresses herself, goes to school, brings home part of her school lunch to her little brothers? You do.  Even without the promise of anything for you.  Even without hope.

But you know what you would tell that 5 year old you if you could? You would pick her up, you would hold her close, you would tell her you love her, and that there is hope.  That you *know* getting up, and trying, and not giving up is worth it.  Because it has been, Crystal"

I just have no words to describe how it felt hearing that.

"You will say the same thing today ten years from now if you can.  It is worth it.  It will be."

We also talked about the things people do to protect their hearts- and how "walls" put a person in exactly the place they fear the most- isolation.

I tell you.  She is an angel in my life.

As for my thoughts on therapy.  I am better.  SO. much better for it.