My Human Shrink

I love my Shrink. He's human. I deal well with holier-than-thou attitude people and he isn't. In fact, sometimes he has off-days. Today was one of them. Normally I relish his off-days because it gives me a glimpse into 'the man behind the mask' and then I don't feel quite so lame. And I dearly love to see into people's lives and who they are and what makes them think and feel whatever they are thinking and feeling.

Today he had one of his rare days when he just wasn't altogether with it. And generally I love those days. But today I could have used a little focus.

He arrived 15 minutes late, reminding me of the days when he was always late. He wore jeans and a button down shirt with the first two buttons open and without the usual t-shirt layered underneath. This is why I originally referred to my therapy as 'Drool Therapy' and the only reason I stuck around for the 6 months until I realized I could trust him.

So he shows up in his Friday casual wear, carrying a bag of cereal and an apple. And he asks me if his shirt is okay or if having the other button undone looks too casual or just plain bad. I laughed at him, of course, and told him he looked fine. So he mulled about the office trying to get organized and find his stuff. So I'm sitting there curled up on his couch, consciously refusing to make small talk, wishing I was still in bed, and watching him being human. And he asks if he can eat his breakfast and I'm trying not to laugh at him but he was just being so adorably... real.

I eventually apologized for bailing on him Wednesday - and told him the truth about why I did. I was nervous about telling him that I blew him off because I was too tired to come. I was afraid it would hurt his feelings, even though I know he is a professional and wouldn't take it personally anyways because that's not his style. I was also afraid he'd charge me for the missed appointment, which he is well within his rights to do but I still can't afford it. And, probably most of all, I knew it should be a topic for discussion because in 2 1/2 years with him, I have never just blown him off, even in my darkest times.

And we did start to talk about it. I wanted to. I need help and I don't know what to do. I needed him to hear me and help me figure out something reasonable. But he was really having an off day and kept getting distracted. I even told him about the Xanax. He didn't have much to say about it. He asked how much I took and why I took it. Then he moved the subject to why I haven't been sleeping and suggested a sleep study. Somehow we got off on a tangent about the new meds for my head/neck/shoulders and seeing a physical therapist for it. We talked about the crushing financial pressure we are under right now, bounced stuff around about the bunkbeds for the boys.

But it seemed like every time we started to get somewhere in the conversation, he got distracted. And at one point, he was recapping why it is that I am feeling so overwhelmed that I am back to being suicidal. And he made a heavy point about Hubby and Baby-Mommy again, which I had just begun to relax a little bit about. I did feel validated that I have a whole heck of a lot going on and it's not overly surprising that I am feeling overwhelmed.

I actually started crying this morning, which I don't often do in session. And he asked me an interesting question. I think it is the question we all mean when we try to comfort someone who is upset but it's not the question we generally ask. He asked me what I need. It was very gentle and very caring and I really felt understood at that minute. He didn't ask me what was wrong, like everyone does. I have no idea how to answer the question of what's wrong. He asked me what I needed. I'm going to have to remember that for the future, to use that phrasing, it felt so powerful.

So, aside from some good 'human shrink' moments, what I got from therapy today was a few moments of connection and the one bit of help he did provide. He reminded me to 'fill up my tank' by taking care of my own needs. He says it's not selfish of me to care for myself as well as others. He said that everyone needs to put their own well being high on their priority list. He said that when he doesn't get to run or exercise, he is less efficient in every area. He said he has less patience and a harder time being a good dad when he doesn't get his running time in. He said I need to make sure I refill my tank. I don't know how the heck I am going to do that - our schedules are crazy busy, money is running in the negative figures, and Hubby is about to abandon me, uh.. leave for train school. I'm still thinking on it.

I'd still rather be dead than trying to deal with this crap. It's all too much and there is no way out of it. But I won't destroy my children that way. They would, literally, never recover. That's not delusions of grandeur - I've read the literature and the studies on children with a parent who committed suicide and it's devastating. So I'll just keep swimming and trying to do too much irreparable damage to them. And I'll dream of peace and of rest and of no more pain...

Put on your own oxygen mask before your children's. You can't help them if you are incapacitated.