A Different Kind of Ending

I have to be honest, this post finds me feeling a little bit sheepish. When I last left you I was riding the wave of love off into the sunset and now I'm writing to you on the heels of it. A month has gone by, but a great deal has passed. Like every relationship, mine was put to the test - probably in a much more sudden and dramatic fashion than any other relationship I've been in - and as happens all too often, it didn't pass. 

And just like that, my new relationship was over and I was left dizzy, sitting amidst a swirl of emotions. Here I was again, having poured my heart and soul into something only to have it all come undone. Unraveled. Alone. It was a position I'd found myself in before and one that I'd fought so incredibly hard not to wind up in again. 

I entered cautiously into the realm of the after-love expecting all of the weight of my past relationships to come crashing down on me - but that never happened. I expected to be forced to swallow a giant pill of bitterness and hurt but being single this time had a different aftertaste.

I definitely experienced many of the same types of feelings I've had before after the ending of a relationship - feelings of rejection, thoughts of failed past romances, worries of being on a timeline for marriage and kids, of being destined to end up alone forever and having to deal with all of life's stresses by myself (did I mention I totaled my car?) - only those thoughts didn't feel as overwhelming or carry as much weight as they likely would have in the past. Instead of knocking me down entirely they came and went almost like a reflex.  

In the past I've wallowed in my sorrows, pining away for lost loves probably longer than was healthy or necessary. Although the wounds from this experience are fresh and part of me still mourns the relationship and even yearns for it at times, I'm surprised to find that I can already begin to appreciate it for what it was and I am able to feel grateful for the time we spent together. I can recognize what I gained from the relationship and I'm proud of the fact that, regardless of the end result, I can honestly say that I gave the best of me and loved wholly without fear or trepidation.

I'm sure I've mentioned it here before but I'm a bit of a hopeless romantic. Although I've certainly seen a more lackluster side of love, I still believe in fairy tale endings. When it comes to relationships, my mind and my heart fight a constant battle. My logical side urges me to wall up and plant my feet on the ground but my heart wants to throw caution to the wind and run with it. I end up getting way ahead of myself  planning and dreaming, and this time was no exception. As much as I fought it, my heart took over and I allowed myself to fall, to feel, to believe that my perfect ending was within reach. 

But the trouble is, nothing is perfect. And sometimes relationships just don't work. Sometimes you might do everything within your power to try and make it work and the problem is just too big. Sometimes, no matter how much you care about someone, you have to accept that you've done what you can do and then cut your losses and move on. I gave it my best - I believe that we both did - and it didn't work out. It's no fault of my own, it's just one of those things. Coming to that realization was hard but it didn't feel as devastating for me as it has in the past. 

Even though I've spent (and still continue to spend) a fair amount time wishing things could be different, I know that I'm making the choice that's right for me and that makes me feel good and it makes me feel loved. I won't lie, there are times I can't help but wonder what might have been but this time I'm already able to believe and to see that life will go on and I will love again. And unlike so many times before, what remains isn't sadness, it's hope. 


-k

A Leap For Love

Sorry if I've been a little MIA lately it's just that my life is kind of on fire right now. I've recently moved into my new home (which I've been happily busy furnishing and decorating), I'm enjoying exploring a new neighborhood, a new, shorter commute to work and I have a new dog on top of everything (that makes three if you're counting). So yeah, life's been a little busy these days. And I also somehow suddenly woke up and found myself in a relationship. It didn't actually happen over night - in fact, it almost didn't happen at all. If I'm being honest, I'd have to say that this relationship came about despite my very best efforts to avoid it. 

It's been a little over a year now since my last serious relationship, the one that prompted me to turn to therapy. Despite all of the things I've gained from therapy that have nothing to do with romance, I have to admit that getting to a place where I could find myself in a loving, secure relationship was my ultimate goal from the very beginning. At various times throughout this journey I've wondered how I'd fare with my next romantic venture. Given what happened in the past, I had a feeling I'd be cautious but I don't think I ever could have predicted just how closed off I would actually be until I finally had an opportunity for romance staring me right in the face. 

As I mentioned to P on several occasions, I had really wanted the dating process to parallel my experience with house hunting. I worried a lot about whether I would be able to trust myself to make the 'right' decisions, to weed out the negativity and fears and just go with my gut, as I had ultimately been able to do with the purchase of my home. To compare navigating a relationship to house hunting is a lovely notion in theory. The truth is, when you find yourself in a situation where you're falling for someone pretty much all logic goes out the window. It truly becomes a matter of the heart. 

I'd love to say that there was a natural progression of boy meets girl and so on, but in reality there have been a lot of ups and downs, some pushing and shoving (mostly on my end) and there's also been a fair share of doubt. In fact, if I hadn't been aware of some of my feelings and behaviors and how they affected my thought process I might have missed the love boat entirely.  

For example, there was one night, after things had been going really well, when my guy and I were having a conversation and making plans for later in the week. He told me he might not be able to make it to a dinner where I had hoped to introduce him to my friends. It was innocent enough - a simple conflict of schedule - but it triggered a strong emotion in me tied to a memory from a past relationship, a pretty intense fear of being let down and hurt. Even recognizing it in the moment, I tried to reason my way through it, reminding myself that the past was the past and this was a new situation, but it was too late. I could already feel myself emotionally and physically pulling away as I started to reject the relationship that I had been so excited about just days before. 

That following week I found myself tearful talking to P in her office, already grieving the loss of my brand new relationship. I struggled to understand how I had made such a complete 180 turn with my feelings so quickly. I was downhearted as I told her about the previous week's events and the strong emotional trigger that had been brought up. P helped me break down the scenario and understand why being in a situation where I was feeling bad about myself might make me feel less great about the relationship in general. I started to recognize that my anxiety was getting the best of me and causing me to focus on all of the smaller, negative things and ignore some pretty big positives like how this guy was caring and creative and kind and how I couldn't stop smiling whenever I thought about him. What I began to realize was that I actually still really wanted the relationship to work and yet here I was accepting it was over before I'd ever even given it a chance. 

Always the voice of reason, P advised me to take it easy for a couple days, to give myself some room to breathe and then see how I felt about the relationship. I followed her advice, took some time time and checked in with myself to see what I truly wanted. I wanted in. Over the next few days my emotional compass slowly turned back to where it had been the week before and I began to feel really good about the relationship again.

Navigating a new relationship is no piece of cake, especially when you've been hurt (and let's face it, who hasn't?). There are always going to be little trials and insecurities at the start and that just comes with the territory. Case in point: here I was, having wanted to find love for so long and yet I nearly foiled it by getting caught up in all the things I've worked so hard on in therapy - worrying, over-analyzing, putting up barriers. P, never quite as hard on me as I am on myself, reminded me that applying the skills I've gained from therapy to a relationship is an entirely new situation that comes with it's own challenges. When it came down to it what tripped me up the most was being guarded (he even called me out on it). 

Even as I become more and more comfortable within the relationship I'm still fighting urges to wall myself in. From a logic standpoint it's completely ridiculous. He's given me absolutely no reason to feel insecure - there have been times throughout the past month when I couldn't have felt more cared for - but the memories are there, and my mind is still trying to protect me from a world of hurt. 

Everybody gets hurt, my situation is not unique. Falling in love is just another leap of faith. It's scary and wonderful all in one breath. It's taken this journey (and a charmingly blunt guy to point it out) to realize just how guarded I've become and the truth is that I'm still scared. But the difference now is that I'm no longer letting it hold me back. I'm learning how to harness my fear and run with it. I'm learning how to take a leap for love.

-k

My Dating Rules

I pump my own gas. Always. Flowers and cards honestly make me a little flustered. Pulling out my chair for me at dinner is a nice gesture but be prepared that I may get confused and take the opposite seat anyway forcing an awkward moment where we have to switch our drinks to fit the new seating arrangement (drinks which you've pre-ordered, much to my dismay). You might get away with picking up the tab on a first date but if there's a second one you can bet your booty I'm paying. If you say something even remotely romantic too soon then it's all over. Don't get me wrong, it's sweet but I'm just not ready for that yet. Don't even think about surprising me, especially in front of others. I'm five steps ahead of you. Besides, I'll be the one calling the shots here, thank you very much. 

You want to impress me? Bring me something totally off the wall like a Klondike bar in the middle of winter. Or talk to me about sharks. Sharks I can handle. 

But please don't text me goodnight out of the blue. Ever. I'll pick you to pieces.

If you're considering trying to date me these are just a few of the stipulations you can expect to come across. It's true, I have some pretty rigid requirements when it comes to romance.  Combine that with my innate analytical tendencies and what you've got is a recipe for dating disaster. I might as well wear a warning sign: Any prospective suitor will be subject to intense scrutiny. Even when I do find myself interested in a guy, the moment I sense my affection being returned, I feel myself losing grip on the reigns and I start backpedaling internally. Before long, I've picked and pulled at the situation so much that it looks like a giant sweater unraveling. How could there be any room left for romance amidst all that fluff? 

Interestingly, some of my favorite movies showcase grandiose romantic gestures. I love how unabashedly Adam Sandler asks Drew Barrymore out over and over again in 50 First Dates. The flash card scene from Love Actually always makes me cry. A sappy love song? Bring it on. My iPod is literally filled with them. Clearly I want romance in my life, I just don't know how to receive it. 

You see, it's just that I've always wanted to be able to take care of everything by myself. Sink clogged? I'll fix it myself. Car broken down? I've got it covered. There's a problem, I can handle it. On my own. Without help from anybody else.

Why am I so uncomfortable being taken care of? I'm not sure exactly but I think it's that I'm afraid of having someone to rely on. Even when I've been in relationships with people who I trust I've found it difficult to just allow someone to simply care for and take care of me.

Looking back now I see it's with a guarded heart and suspicious brow that I've navigated my past relationships. I've held them at an arms length in effort to help lessen the blow when they slip out of reach. I thwart romantic efforts for fear of being swept off my feet and out of my comfort zone. I scrutinize every move because I figure that maybe if I can figure them out I won't be let down when it all unravels and I'm left alone. 

My rules are there for a reason. They've helped protect me from getting in deeper than my heart can handle. Until I learn to let someone in I may never fall down again but I'll never allow myself to really fall in love either. If I can let go of my rules and relax a little then maybe I can allow myself to be open to romance after all.

So to all potential suitors: You've seen the sign, consider yourself warned. But if you're still up for the challenge then go ahead and buy me a gift, something ridiculously thoughtful and over-the-top sweet. I may laugh it off uncomfortably at first but it's quite possible that later, when no one's looking, I may actually look back at it and smile.

-k

Giving Thanks: An Attitude of Gratitude

A couple weeks ago, P challenged me to start a gratitude journal. When she mentioned it, we weren't really chatting about anything in particular that I can recall. She said she usually recommends it at one point or another to all of her clients and she wasn't sure why she had never posed the exercise to me before. I have to be honest, while I was open to the idea, it's kind of the hokey-sounding sort of thing I would have expected from a therapist before I really understood what going to therapy was all about. While it sounded like a nice enough concept, I didn't really expect that it would have much impact. But as with most anything P suggests, I was game to give it a try. For the journal, she wanted me to keep it relatively simple, I was to list 3-5 things I was grateful for on a daily basis. They didn't have to be big things (a warm cup of tea counts) but I had to feel truly thankful for them. 

And so I started my list, just mentally at first, but after just a couple of days of focusing on what I was grateful for I could feel a shift in my attitude and few days after that I could tell I was going to want to incorporate it into my everyday routine. I even went as far as deciding to make November my month of gratitude - it only makes sense with Thanksgiving coming up right? I figured, like any good habit, if I could give it a month maybe it would stick. Now here I am, three quarters of the month in and my list is still going strong. 


I'll be honest, some days the thankfulness comes more readily than others but nevertheless each day I really make a point to give it some good thought. I'm noticing that my thankful list is beginning to come much more naturally. Some days I am able to go well beyond my 3-5 things, and the list of things that I'm grateful for seems to be endless. Even when I'm not feeling particularly thankful (like if I have to be up earlier than I like or at the end of a long day of work) I can find gratitude in a warm bowl of pumpkin oatmeal or coming home to kisses from my dogs. I'm impressed that I'm starting to feel grateful for things like togetherness or peace. Hokey though it may seem - and I'm the first to admit it - it really is life changing.

Even as I had some ups and downs this month - my grandmother passed away, my dad fell and broke his shoulder and I suffered a stress fracture in my foot all within the same week - I found myself able to focus on the the more positive aspects of each situation: like how I was happy that I was able to spend so much time with my grandma, especially during her later years, and thankful that, after a couple months of a hectic schedule, I'd been able to make it out to visit her a few days before she passed. I felt fortunate that my dad was first and foremost ok and wondered if his injury wasn't maybe a blessing in disguise that allowed him to take some much needed time to rest. Being sidelined with my own injury has been frustrating to say the least but the other events of the week helped me put that into perspective for sure. Throughout the difficult and teary times I found myself feeling grateful for the support of wonderful friends and coworkers and this past weekend I've just felt really lucky to be able to relax and spend some down time with my family. I'm even starting to find more joy in the little things like ability of a light comedy to help ease a heavy heart or the simple comfort of a home cooked meal.

Having an attitude of gratitude (and therapy in general) is making my life richer every single day. I highly recommend that you try it (the gratitude journal that is - well, therapy too but that's another post entirely ;)). It takes a little practice and conscious effort at first but just like exercising a muscle if you are consistent with it you really will start to see a change. Practice giving thanks and you'll be surprised how it can affect not just your day but your whole mindset.  Even during a relatively tough time such as now it helps that I am able to feel so much more thankful for all of the wonderful things in my life and, even as my mind is burdened, my heart is very full right now

-k

Finding The One

This post is long overdue. The past month has been a busy one for me - I've been traveling quite a bit for various events. Most recently I flew to California to visit my sisters and then a mere 3 days later I turned around and headed to Baltimore for a friend's wedding -  and in the midst of it all I found and put an offer on a purchase for my first home. You could say life's been a little crazy lately. 

The house hunting and negotiation process was stressful for all the typical reasons (it was time consuming, I'm still being bombarded with paperwork on a daily basis) but even more so for me it was just the anxiety of really wanting to find the right place. In embarking on my search, I looked to others for guidance - friends, coworkers - questioning them on how they had found their 'perfect' home. I got the same advice over and over again.  Everyone told me not to worry, "when you find the right one, you'll just know," "the right place is out there, you just need to keep looking," "the search is stressful but everything will work out they way it's supposed to in the end."

These words of wisdom weren't as comforting to me as they may have been to some. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a glass-half-empty type of person. In fact I would say I'm fairly optimistic most of the time but when it comes to myself I have a hard time adopting an 'everything will work out in the end' mentality.  The thing is, I just don't have that sense. All my life I've felt like things don't work out for me and even thinking back on times when I've had good things in my life I felt like I was constantly scanning the horizon, on the lookout for the one thing that was going to swoop in and take it all away. 

I'm not exactly sure where this sense comes from. First it was just a general feeling. I can remember being young and experiencing anxiety when my parents would head out for an evening, worried that they might not come back even though I was safe at home with my brothers and sisters. Later in life, my worrying wormed it's way into my relationships. Whenever I found myself happily settled in a good relationship rather than being able to accept it and allowing myself to be happy I would often find myself on edge, just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

So putting my trust in the house hunting process and believing that it would all work out was actually a huge leap of faith for me. I wanted so badly to believe that the right place was out there. I figured, if these types of things could work out for other people then why couldn't they work out for me? I reminded myself, the right one is out there, when I find it I'll know. But still, I wondered, how would I know?  

When I first came to P, filling her in on the details of my recently unraveled relationship I had told her that towards the end something just hadn't felt right. I can recall ranting openly, chastising myself for not listening to my gut and I remember P interjecting and catching me a little off guard as she adamantly told me always trust your instincts. It seemed like such simple advice but as the weeks and months went on I found P's words echoing through my head and what I realized was that I'd actually been out of touch with my instincts for quite some time. Wanting very badly to get back in tune with my gut, I talked to P about it on several occasions even asking her to recommend books I could read that might help me tap back into it. (She did recommend one called The Gift of Fear by Gavin de Becker. I checked it out once at Barnes & Noble - it's a thick book, about 400 pages, in which the author details stories of violence and abuse to offer practical advice for honing in on your instincts. I decided I was too scared to read it.) 

So, with a leery attitude, and without a manual, I went forth with my search, trying to lean on my gut for support. I had compiled a mental list of features I was searching for in a home and I immediately discarded ones that didn't meet my criteria. When I did find a home that had certain qualities that appealed to me, it was hard not to fixate on those things and lose sight of all of the other things I didn't like (I actually considered a house with that had an atrium in the middle of it and tile designed to look like carpet in the bedroom which I still don't really understand. If you're trying to achieve a carpet-like look why not just get carpet?) There were a couple places I wanted to jump on right away, just because they seemed good enough and I was afraid I wasn't going to find the perfect fit. 

I tried to remind myself not to settle. Still it's a difficult process to go through on your own and there were definitely times I wanted to throw my hands up in the air and rely on others for guidance and support. There were times I was frustrated, times I was tearful and wanted to give up but every time I felt fearful I would take a deep breath and keep on going.

And then I found it. It wasn't in the location that I had originally wanted, it was lacking a couple of the amenities I'd hoped for and in fact it wasn't anything like I had imagined in my head (the exterior was pink!) but it was the right one and I knew the moment I saw it. Even later, when I questioned myself, I would look back at the pictures and think this is my house. It may sound silly but I even experienced little heart flutters whenever I would think about it, like the kind you get when you're first falling in love. 

Even so, moving forward there were points at which I doubted myself - like when my mortgage lender hit me with a bit of unexpected information or when my brothers weighed in with their (mostly negative) opinions and advice. In the past I probably would have take these things as a bad omen or a sign that it wasn't meant to be but instead I took a deep breath, checked in with my gut and continued to move forward with hope and with confidence. Next week I'll close escrow and finalize the purchase of my house and I couldn't be more happy and excited. I was back there recently for the home inspection and I felt so at peace. I seriously fall more and more in love with it every time I'm there.

So I can read about tuning into my instincts all I want (I'm sure P's book recommendation will be useful and I'll probably read it one day once I muster up the courage) but I think just having this experience was huge in allowing me to gain confidence in trusting myself and the process. It was an invaluable lesson in what I probably always knew, that it's just about paying attention and having the confidence to trust in myself. 

As I went through the house hunting process I couldn't help but draw parallels to my romantic life: the search, the frustration, the struggle of going at it alone. Buying a home on my own gave me a rush of confidence and pride and it's definitely an accomplishment in it's own right, but perhaps what I'm most excited for is the sense of hope that it gives me when it comes to relationships. 


All my life all I've really ever wanted is to love and be loved. I just have this strong desire to take care of someone and a yearning for the sense of security that comes from a lasting relationship. The funny thing is, I've heard all of the same advice on relationships that I was given on house hunting from all of the same people, "don't worry, the right person is out there, " "it will all work out in the end," "when you find the right one you'll  just know." 


I've been in relationships with guys I knew I had no business being with in the first place and guys I would have sworn were "the one" from the get go and as different as the two situations may seem, having experienced success in the house hunting process gives me faith moving forward in the relationship department. On days when I'm tired of looking and all I want to do is rest my head on someone's chest and know that everything will be alright I'll draw from this experience and remind myself not to settle, to have patience and trust that it truly will all work out in the end. 

I know now that I can trust in myself and I have a little more hope that the right one is indeed out there. Maybe it won't happen exactly when I think it will and maybe he won't be exactly what I pictured but maybe, just maybe, when I find him I'll just know.

-k

Vacation, All I Ever Wanted

A few weekends ago I traveled to Las Vegas for a friend's bachelorette party. I'll admit, I'd had some mixed emotions in the months leading up to the trip. On one hand, I was excited to spend time and celebrate with my friend for her upcoming wedding but I also had some feelings of apprehension. For starters, my previous experiences in Sin City haven't exactly been the best, but there were other reasons too. In the past I've struggled with finding a balance between wanting to maintain a healthy lifestyle and allowing myself to relax and indulge a little while on vacation and I wasn't sure how that would play out over the course of the trip. I'm also someone who likes having some time to myself each day to collect my thoughts and reflect, and I knew that I was going to be spending the weekend in close quarters with five other girls and that alone time would be scarce. Being a bachelorette party and having much of the weekend's festivities laid out in advance, there was also an air of anxiety about not having enough time to fit in my own plans (blogging, exercising, relaxing etc) - I've mentioned I'm a planner, right?

Perhaps the biggest thing on my mind was simply wondering about how the trip might go and what kind of feelings I'd be left with afterward. In the past, vacations have often left me feeling dissatisfied or let down. In fact it's something I mentioned to P in one of our very first sessions. I can remember being a child on family vacations and, rather than being able to simply enjoy myself, I often recall daydreaming out the car window about how things could or should be better - perhaps if I were some other person, in some other life?  

As long as I can remember I've had mixed feelings surrounding trips. On one hand I'm excited, anticipating all of the potential fun I'll have and yet any excitement that I do feel is always shadowed by a cloud of apprehension.  Even recently, as I've made leaps and bounds in my progress in therapy, I've still struggled to come to terms with the disparity between my idea of how I'd like a vacation to go and how it actually plays out (remember my trip to Philadelphia anyone?).  

Since I've been in therapy a little over a year now and am starting to recognize countless ways in which I've changed and grown, it's always nice to see the benefits of my hard work play out into real world situations. Yet, even as an opportunity arises to 'practice' these skills and I go forth with the hope that a situation will be different, I'm always a little wary.  


That's definitely the feeling I had heading into my last couple of vacations. I hoped to have a fun and relaxing time, the kind of experience I'd always thought possible but I still had a difficult time believing it could actually happen. I really hoped that all my time spent in therapy would help me to have a more enjoyable experience. Still, If my trip to Philadelphia was any indication, I worried I could be in for a world of disappointment. There's nothing worse than planning and and looking forward to a vacation or event and then feeling let down afterwards. 

At first glance my Vegas trip might look like it measured up pretty poorly: I lost my cell phone and had no choice but to replace it (at a cost), I didn't get a chance to exercise or blog as much as I'd wanted, I had virtually no control over the weekend's agenda and very little alone time. Yet somehow, despite all of the things that would have made me anxious or annoyed in the past, I had a great time. I spent quality time with old friends and new, became accepting of changes in plans and let go of some rigid expectations of myself. For example, rather than working out in the hotel gym every day I had one long invigorating run in the rain along the Vegas strip. I also managed to stay health conscious for most meals while taking part in the fun and indulging a little (red wine and haagen dazs ice cream!) In fact, looking back, I would venture to say that the trip was just about perfect.

Still, one good vacation does not a pattern make. (I mean, there can always be a fluke right?) I knew I had to give it another go to prove to myself that things had changed. Enter vacation number two: this past weekend I met up with my two best friends in Santa Barbara for our annual girls' trip. Again, I was of course excited to catch up and relax with my best friends but I was also leery of a let-down. 

The verdict? I had an amazing time. Sure things didn't always go according to plan (our hotel room was quite a bit different than depicted online, I experienced some wi-fi issues that delayed some of my blog posts, I had to rearrange my running schedule to make time for meeting up with some other friends) but none of that really got to me the way it likely would have in the past. When I did notice some of the old issues popping up at times (which is inevitable) I found that I was much better equipped to handle them. A large part of that probably comes from just having awareness of the situation and having practiced techniques I've learned in therapy but I'm starting to discover that I now also have an underlying sense of enjoyment that wasn't there before. I no longer rely on little things to make or break a trip because I'm just more happy and content in general.

I'm really developing a newfound sense of comfortability and security in my own skin, and it feels really good. I feel like I'm finally starting to live the life that before I would only dream about. It's so nice to have hopes for how the future will go and for once not feel disappointed with the outcome. I realize that nothing has drastically changed about these vacations or situations and that it's all in my attitude and outlook. It's kind of like my eyes are open now where before they were closed. And I couldn't be more thrilled about that. Because for once, instead of staring out the window and wishing I were in some other situation, or living someone else's life, I feel so incredibly happy and grateful to be experiencing my own. 

Having these two vacations under my belt, I realize that my Philadelphia trip wasn't likely the best gauge of my progress in therapy because it truly was a different beast entirely. I had purchased my blog conference ticket and booked my flight a mere 3 weeks before the event, I was in unfamiliar territory, rooming with strangers and sharing a lot of myself and my blog (things I wasn't even totally sure of yet) with others. I had struck out on a whim to follow a newfound passion and align myself with people, some of whom had been blogging for years. And there I was, a relative newbie in an arena of blogging superstars. Of course I was feeling stressed, anxious and out of my element. It's only natural - it was a gutsy move. And I'd do it all again in a heartbeat.

-k

When The Therapist's Away...

What do you do when your therapist goes on vacation? It probably depends on what you're in therapy for and your emotional state to begin with. Some people likely become anxious at the prospect of not seeing their trusted confidant for their weekly appointment, some may even cry or freak out a little. I ultimately decided to take the day to myself. 


As much as I enjoy therapy (and I mean I really, really love therapy) I have to admit that I was a little excited when P first told me she would be out of town last week and we would have to postpone our weekly session. After nearly a year of showing up faithfully, week after week for the same afternoon appointment it was nice to have my schedule clear for once, to have the day to spend entirely as I chose, to not have to be anywhere at any specific time. It was kind of like a little breath of fresh air. I got my hair done, spent some time relaxing at Starbucks then popped over next door for an impromptu pedicure. And then when I was finished galavanting about and felt sufficiently pampered, I went home. Because I felt like it. In fact, last Tuesday was probably the most relaxing day I've had in a long time. 

But I should probably back up… The prior Tuesday I had been feeling a little unnerved. That week had been a bit of a low point for me. I had just gotten back from attending a blogger conference in Philadelphia. I was striking out in unfamiliar territory (in a field that was relatively new to me), meeting new people (including some whose blogs I read on a regular basis) and really kind of putting myself out there.  It was basically a chance for me to practice many of the skills I'd acquired from therapy all at once. And I failed. At least in my eyes. While some aspects of the weekend went very well (I met a lot of other bloggers - I'd even go so far as to say I made some new friends - I continued to introduce myself to new people even though I felt uncomfortable at times, I told people about my blog even though I was still very unsure of it myself) I couldn't help but fixate on the parts that didn't fare so well (I still felt uncomfortable socializing at times which is something I've struggled with in the past, I spent a lot of time mentally picking apart my blog, comparing myself to others and feeling like I'd never achieve what they had). After I returned home I found myself experiencing some fairly intense emotions. 

Moreover, over the next few days, I found myself fixated on one person (whose blog I read regularly and really admire).  I kept comparing myself to her and having thoughts about how she's perfect and I'll never measure up. I realized I was right back in my old comparison trap. Finding myself struggling with some of the same issues again was frustrating to say the least. I actually started feeling a little hopeless because I realized that, while I was able to recognize my issues (I don't really like this word but I have yet to find a good alternative), I still felt powerless to overcome them. Equally irritating was realizing that it's all within my control and yet I still am very much my own worst enemy. I started thinking about my issues that P and I have identified such as perfectionism and everything that's tied into it (the need for control, planning, comparisons). It seemed as though all of my smaller issues were coming together into one big unbearable core issue. And it felt intense and awful.

Two weeks ago found me in a tearful state as I related this all to P during our therapy session. I was disappointed in myself for having such negative feelings, especially at this stage in therapy and frustrated that I didn't handle the situation as well as I expected myself to at this point. I wasn't sure how P would react to everything I was unloading on her, whether she might even be a little disappointed in me too? P simply looked at me and said, rather matter-of-factly, that she wasn't surprised by my feelings because although we had spent a lot of time uncovering my issues (there's that word again), we hadn't really done a lot of work with the healing process yet. 

To hear her say this at first I was a little taken aback (Come again? I've been in therapy for almost a year and I haven't started healing yet?) but I must say that I was also relieved and even comforted because it meant that there was some more work to be done and more importantly, there was more that I could do about it. P went on to explain that these so-called 'negative' experiences (like the despair I was feeling after the past weekend) are actually important to the healing process and necessary in order to get to the core issue. I started to conjure up an image of a giant gobstopper and peeling away all the layers to get to the center. So I hadn't really started healing yet.

I've found that I have a two-part approach to dealing with an unexpected bit of information like this. My initial response is to approach with caution, eyeball from a distance, circle it a few times, back up and mull it over, come in for a closer look, poke it with a stick. My follow-up urge tends to be to dive in and dissect it to the point of exhaustion. After I had allowed the conversation from our last session to sink in, I thought about emailing P on several occasions to ask her to define more about this 'healing process' and just where along the therapy continuum did she think I was exactly? What does she feel my next 'steps' should be? Does it simply require more time and continuing the same process that we've been working on or taking on a completely new approach? I never did email P - a therapist deserves a vacation too after all. Besides I had a hunch that it wasn't something that could be answered in a simple reply. 

Over the past week I started thinking about the process of healing and what it means. As someone who finds the process of therapy truly fascinating (not just because of what I'm learning about myself) I was intrigued and curious to see how my 'healing' would unfold. Still there's a part of me that feels like I should be "fixed" already. And that part of me was feeling really frustrated because it seems like every time I think I'm getting it, getting closer to that core, I'm being forced to dig down a little bit deeper. 


I had just started reading a book called "Finding Your Own North Star" by Martha Beck (hey I needed some sort of guidance with P out of town) when I came upon this paragraph describing Dante's journey in The Divine Comedy that the author uses as a parallel to the process of self discovery:

His journey "took him as low as a human being could sink, through his worst fears and most bitter truths, down to the very center of the earth. And then, by continuing straight "downward" through the center and beyond, he was suddenly headed up. Before him he could see things like purpose, fulfillment, excitement, compassion and delight. He was still tired and scared, but he wasn't sleepwalking, and he wasn't lost. There was still a long road ahead of him, but it was the right road. "

It may be a little bit dramatic but I think it's actually a pretty accurate depiction of what occurs during the therapy process (at least in my experience). I've said it before and I'll say it again: therapy isn't easy work. I like to think that every time I have an experience like this where I'm left dealing with these intense emotions that it's proof that I'm reaching my center, chipping away at my core and healing just a little. I know it will take time and many more experiences like this one in order to get to a place where I feel like I'm healed (and I also know that the process will never truly be complete) but this time around, after just a few days of not feeling so great, I was already headed back up again.

At the end of our last session, just as we were about to part, aware that she would be leaving me to fend for myself for two weeks, P had asked me if I had any questions. I had one: Is it ever going to get better? P just looked at me and smiled. I already knew the answer. 


I have already seen so many benefits from therapy. Even when I'm in these so-called low points I realize that it's not as bad as it could be. Still therapy can be very intense at times. But I'm even more willing to withstand the intense times now because I suspect that that's where the healing begins. For now, I'm looking forward to my next session with P and excited for my healing to continue.

-k