Therapy...Revisited

And the joke is on me. Wow, I had fooled everyone around me and most importantly myself into thinking that my life was just fine. I truly believed it. After my divorce was final I sort of coasted into this fun lifestyle of hanging out with my friends when I didn't have my kids and being a mom when they were here. I handled a move, a couple of vacations, homework, piano, and soccer. I did it all with a smile on my face and sarcasm on my tongue. If my ex was brought up, my inner class clown could come out faster than you could blink. Survival. That was what I was doing. And I tried to look fashionable doing it.

Where did that get me? Well I'll tell you where. Remember my last post? I feel the need for a retraction of a few sentences. Mainly the ones dealing with me being fine. The rest of it still holds true.

My kiddos came home Monday night and reality hit me in the face. They were a mess. I can't even imagine how they had held all of that in, but they did and boy did they let loose. Feelings just started exploding in me rapidly. By Tuesday night I was becoming a mess and there were some other personal things that added to that, but the central issue was that I had not really healed and that wedding bothered me a ton more than I could have imagined. Wednesday I broke. It happened rapidly. I felt enraged. I wanted to explode there was so much emotion and pressure in my chest. I couldn't eat, concentrate or even have a real conversation. By this morning it was worse. I would say it was worse than when he moved out. So bad! I dropped Coryn off at pre-school sobbing(awesome), started my drive downtown, made it halfway and then called my old therapist. He got me in immediately. In fact he came in early just to meet with me.

So here I am again sitting in Dr. Steve's office and this time I'm pissed off. I believe one of the first things I told him was that I felt like he was living his dream life and I was stuck carrying around a bag of shit. That's how I feel. I didn't choose any of this and while I know I have my health and I have my beautiful girls and I have the most amazing group of friends who rally around me in love and prayer, there is still this bag of shit that just sticks with me. He put it in my life and I can't put it down. He responded that I needed to do a little activity. He handed me a bat and then showed me to a dummy/punching bag thing and told me to hit it with my anger. I felt silly at first but then I started feeling it. I was yelling and hitting. I started sobbing uncontrollably and landed in a heap on the floor. When I stopped crying I truly felt relief. I need to do that three times a day. We talked a lot but what I realized is that I still have a long way to go and therapy is going to be a reality for me. So here I am again doing my post-therapeutic graduate work in rebuilding my life from the ground up. I go back Monday.