This Girl's Going to Therapy(ies)

There was a day about two weeks ago that for whatever reason, I wasn't able to exercise.  As the day wore on, so did the depression.  I was a little surprised how quickly it came and how heavy it was.  In that moment I realized that all my exercising, supplements, and eating healthy were helping keep the depression away, but they weren't healing me.  Sure, I'm mostly happy, but I wouldn't say I'm joyful or light or at peace.  My husband and children deserve a joyful wife and mother.  I deserve to be a joyful wife, mother, and woman.  That's when I decided it was time to seek professional help.

This isn't the first time that I've thought about seeing a counselor, but it is the first time I've acted on it.  During my husband's deployment, I was encouraged to see one, but I told myself that I didn't need to, and that I was fine.  I was strong enough to handle my husband being gone, my two small children, and being pregnant.  I was Superwoman and didn't need help.  Those seven months were brutal and I wish I would've recognized that in the moment.  Meeting with a counselor would have helped.  It's been 8 years since then and two years since my mom died and I've been telling myself that I'm fine with her death.  I may not be happy about it, but I trust in God.  I'm a woman of faith so therefore I'm fine.  Here's the deal.  I am fine.  I'm able to function on a day-to-day basis and get the things done that I need to.  I'm able to care for myself and my family.  I'm fine, but if I'm honest with myself, I'm not great.  I'm not as happy as I want to be.  There's a strong current of emotions right underneath the surface that I can ignore, but eventually, it's going to grab me and I have no idea where it'll take me.  Rather than wait until that moment, I'm going to address this head-on.

I met with my therapist last Monday.  We mostly talked about my mom's death.  I imagine that everything will boil down to grief, but I'm clearly not dealing with it, so it's nice to have someone guide me.  He was impressed with how I control my thoughts.  For example, at the beginning of my husband's deployment, I got it in my brain that if I were die in my sleep, my two children would also die because there wasn't anyone checking on us.  I could see in my mind's eye my daughters crying and calling out to me from their separate rooms, unable to get out due to child locks on their doors, and slowly starving to death.  To prevent that from happening, I asked my mom to call me everyday.  I told her it was because I wanted someone to check on me in case I slipped and fell in the shower and was badly hurt.  Realistically my oldest would have popped the child lock off her handle (she figured out how to do that pretty quickly) and would've been able to get her sister and seek help.  I couldn't see past the "what if" I had created and since I couldn't turn that off, I did the next best thing.  My mom called me everyday at 10 am to check on me and my girls. 

I must have figured out how to shut off those thoughts after that because now I can.  Another example: my husband has a job that has the possibility of being very dangerous.  It's possible that every time he leaves the house, it could be the last time I see him.  I don't think about that.  I can't or I'd go crazy.  Instead, I kiss him goodbye, tell him I love him, ask him to be safe, and pray for the best.  I don't allow my mind to wander to the "what if's" because it won't do me any good.

During my session, these two scenarios came up.  My therapist said that I think like a man.  I can compartmentalize my emotions and shut them out when I want to.  The problem is that those emotions are starting to seep under the door.  I imagine they've been seeping for a while, but I just keep putting towels down to stop them.  My mom was diagnosed with cancer in 2006 and died in 2016.  I haven't truly processed my thoughts associated with her illness and death and have chosen to block them.  My therapy homework is to start writing about my feelings and letting the emotions come.  This is going to be rough.

I will say, though, that I've already seen the affects of allowing myself to do this.  After I got home from therapy on Monday, I was talking to my husband about it.  At one point I could feel the tears coming and my first instinct was to shut them off and continue with the conversation, but instead, I allowed myself to cry.  It was only for a minute or two, but I let myself feel the emotions.  I woke up Tuesday morning feeling lighter and happier than I have in awhile.

Unfortunately, this isn't the only therapy I'm going to.  Two Saturday's ago I moved just right and hurt my lower back.  The weird thing is that it didn't hurt that bad in the moment.  It was more of an uncomfortable pull on my lower back.  I figured I was fine and went about my day.  It wasn't until the next day when I got out of bed and had my legs go out from underneath me that I realized that I was hurt.  Luckily I was able to get in with my doctor/physical therapist on Monday and immediately start treatment.  I've been able to keep the pain manageable, but wow does a bulging disc hurt and hinder all activity!  I've spent a lot of time icing my back, doing my therapy stretches, and reading.  Any regular exercise has been put on hold.  It's going to be awhile before I can do anything else.  I'm hopeful that as I take the time to baby my back, I can prevent any further damage, injections, or surgeries.

This is where I am right now.  I wasn't expecting my journey of health to take a detour for a lumbar bulging disc or to include counseling, but life is full of surprises, isn't it?  Here's to working toward physical and mental health!