mental-health – Page 2 – Love, Tennis, and Cancer

I love to start my mornings out in my gazebo. Today is perfect for it. It’s Juneteenth so I’m off of work. The sky is clear. There’s no wind. It’s still cool enough that I popped on my fire table. The sound of water trickling in my fountain and the birds singing drown out a bit of the urban noise. The lilac tree that shelters my gazebo is blossoming. The dogs are laying peacefully by me without chasing squirrels or bunnies all crazy. If only I could train them to run in the house and refill my coffee cup for me.

My emotions and thoughts feel deep today. I’ve been thinking a lot about beginnings and endings. How life is full of them. Hell, every day has a beginning and ending. Some beginnings are the start of something we never want to end, and the end is painful and full of grief. Sometimes we can’t wait for the end, and celebrate its arrival. Sometimes we can’t wait for something to begin and can barely stand the anticipation and its arrival is marked with celebration. Sometimes beginnings feel uncertain and are marked with anxiety and trepidation. Most beginnings and endings aren’t that dramatic…they just ebb and flow with the passing of time…unmarked…unnoticed really.

Yesterday I had my third to the last visit with my therapist. Only two more weeks with her. We talked a lot about the ending of that relationship and how I feel about it. She is the one person on this earth who I can say completely knows and sees me…that I 100% trust. The only other person that I could say that about is Jason…and he died. So, it’s hard for me to keep the loss of my relationship with Tara (my paid therapist) in perspective. It feels like so much more than the loss of a business relationship.

I also am constantly reminding myself that last May, when I first walked into Tara’s office and sobbed on her couch, was also the start of a much more important relationship that will never end…my relationship with myself. She helped facilitate that…peel back a lot of layers…heal a lot of hurt…rebuild trust in myself. That was the real purpose of her time in my life.

So Monday I have a consult with a colleague of hers that she thinks will be a good fit. I’m trying really hard to be optimistic. To feel some excitement for this new beginning. But it’s hard. I told Tara yesterday that my fear is that I won’t be able to get over my weekly therapy sessions not being the same…I’ll lose my motivation for them…and I’ll just stop going. But maybe this will be a good beginning….sometimes we just don’t know.

The past few weeks…maybe month…have been hard for me. I tried to ignore it at first…maybe didn’t even realize the truth myself. I pretended everything was fine. I faked it…until I was in such a deep hole I couldn’t fake it anymore….and pulling myself out seemed like an insurmountable task.

I stopped getting out of bed early and writing in the mornings…instead I was waiting until the last possible second to get up…even though I love my quiet mornings. I started having a glass or two of wine every evening…even though I had gone 5 months without drinking and felt so much better. My excitement for future plans completely vanished…even though I just bought a new camper and the kids and I have several camping weekends booked for the summer. I stopped enjoying my time by myself…only feeling happy when I was spending time with my kids.

Maybe I would have realized my steady mental decline sooner…or avoided it all together…if it also didn’t coincide with my therapist being on vacation for 3 weeks…maybe not. In any case, by the time I saw my therapist on Wednesday I had “gone quiet inside”. That might seem like a strange way to put it…but when the voices in my head go silent I know that I’m in trouble.

I kind of realized what was getting to me before I sat down on my therapist’s couch…but not the complete extent of it…until I was ugly crying 5 minutes into my appointment. This time of year reminds me of when Jason was first diagnosed…5 years ago now. Even though I have been seeing my therapist for almost a year we have never talked much about the 15 months that Jason was sick. We’ve talked about life before that…and life after he died…but those 15 months have been behind a pretty thick wall in my brain. One that I will peek over briefly…before making a hasty retreat.

My therapist tells me this is progress…that it’s actually a good thing. That this dip in my mental state is a signal that it’s time to talk about 5 years ago…time to bring that pain and those feelings to the surface. And as much as I know she’s right. That the past year has taught me to trust her and that nothing good ever comes from burying pain…I really, really don’t want to go there. But I sobbed my way through therapy…disjointed…probably jumping all over the place. Who knows if I even made sense. I left feeling like I had been hit by a truck. I stumbled my way through my day yesterday. And I decided to take a mental health day today because my therapist told me to be gentle and good to myself…so Dr’s orders right?

I am working on being good to myself…giving myself some grace. Last night I got a haircut. This morning I took care of a couple things that need to be done during the workweek…went to the DMV (anyone else procrastinate on getting a real ID?) and to pick out new eyeglasses. It felt good to cross those things off my to-do list. I took the dogs for a walk. Then I packed up my laptop and my headphones and took myself to the coffee shop. I just love sitting in the coffee shop bopping my head to music only I can hear…writing about a world only I see in my head…all while catching glimpses of the relationships playing out around me. Writer Marie is in her happy place here.

Do I feel better? A bit…but I think mostly because I don’t feel discouraged about this “slump” anymore. It sucks to feel this way, but I know that I’m doing all the right things to find my center again…and that I will find my center again. Pain will always be there…hitting me when I am least expecting it…sometimes forcing me to feel it when I don’t want to…but I’ll be okay. The voices in my head always come back…sometimes they whisper…sometimes they shout…on good days they sing.

Tag: mental-health

Beginnings…and Endings

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