The best time to write, is the worst time to write. I know this to be true.
It's like exercise- the more you attempt to talk yourself out of it- the more likely you need it. But I don't want to. I love having written, but sometimes I dread stirring up the sludge.
I wish it was 100% easier to find a good fitting therapist- somewhere you could approach it like a dating site. Swiping this way or that for potential matches. Especially in my 20/30's, I've gone to and left more therapists than hair colorists, and that's saying a lot. I remember I went to a woman's house for therapy- I found her through insurance and didn't even realize it was a house until I pulled up. This is pre everyone has a cell phone and pre GPS. Ohmyword, the anxiety. IS MAPQUEST RIGHT?! This can't be right?!
"I hope you like cats?" she asked as little Pepper bounced like a box spring across my lap, leaving a tiny little blob of goo on my pants. What in the heck are you supposed to say to that if you are, in fact a licensed and card carrying dog person?
"Yes! Love them!" I let her know because I am a caring good person with wonky mental health. I swiped the goo away with a smile, and immediately realized it was poo. For our entire hour together I tried to not focus on how horrible my finger smelled.
Needless to say, good therapy is hard to find, so today my therapy comes in the form of these little taps on this here machine in front of me.
I had the worst night of sleep last night. I started my period, and I was ragingly awake at about 1am. Then the thinking demons pounced on my vulnerable brain asking me who would take care of Greyson and Parker when I die. Where will they go. I had a transition meeting for Grey who has "aged out" of ABA, and we discussed horrible things like Group Homes and Conservatorships. I can't say this out loud for fear of literally turning to dust. Worst than childbirth without an epidural.
In my pitch black room I ran my hands over Laney's fur, literally the softest I've ever felt, and reminded myself - Answers don't come from the sharp place of fear. They come in the calm. And like Johnny Depp in Nightmare on Elm Street- I turned my back to those demons. I know better than to try and reason with them. Depriving them of oxygen is the only way to survive.
Which reminds me- We adopted Laney! The Momma pup we had been fostering. Her baby has been adopted out to a wonderful family and I am so happy. Like- if I had to write the perfect family for her into existence it would be them. She follows us and reached out to me on Facebook! The first several days were brutal, which was expected, but exponentially greater than I imagined. Part of my grief was the loss of her joy and absolute zest for life in our house. She filled us all with life. Part of my grief was Laney's grief. For the first few nights, we literally clung to each other as we sweatily slept. One night she was pressed against my side, so I lifted my shirt up to expose my stomach for her to lie against. OHMYGOD, Chrissy- you are skin to skin'ing with a DOG?! The part of me that knew it was absurd emphatically stated. "I know, I know, but it's who I am."
She couldn't eat dinner for a day or two, so neither could I. And each day we found ways to make our own joy to counteract the sad. We get updates from Baby- now Daisy's human Momma, and I tell and show Laney with a smile and maybe some tears in my eyes.
REMINDER: When given the choice to love, take it every time. Even if you know it might hurt. What an honor it is to love.
Yesterday we went to the Big Fresno Fair. We go every year, and I can tell you with certainty, Grey likes it more than Disneyland. Which is what I kept reminding myself yesterday morning as I got ready and was a tiny bit dreading it. (OK fine, alot bit).
Grey was here for all the spinning rides.
just to let you know how much your writing (still) resonates with me.... (also an autism mum).... hoping you'll post more this year.ReplyDelete