I've been seeing a therapist for the last 6 weeks or so. My therapist, whom I will call "Steve Jobs," is totally amazing and I am rescinding my traditional disdain for therapists. I always had this pre-conceived notion that therapists just work to create co-dependent relationships with you so that you can't do anything by yourself and are tied to the respective therapist forever so that you keep paying for the pool he just installed in his mansion.
Kidding. Well, sort of.
Seriously, though, I always quickly dismissed the idea of therapy. It felt like defeat, like admitting I couldn't handle my own life. But when my parents found tremendous solace in counseling (about my brother who choosingly went MIA and basically sucks. But not to judge him or anything) and my cousin started pursuing a third degree in counseling, I started to think that maybe it wasn't a sign of defeat. I wasn't crazy. I wasn't out of control. I wasn't about to abandon my life and go live in a nudist colony and build grenades out of discarded gum wrappers. I just craved a "creative interruption" in my life, someone who would listen to my story and ask me different questions. Jack is wonderful and truly serves as my armchair therapist. But I needed a pro to help me pick at some old wounds, to hopefully expose the infection so that I can finally heal.
Life is full of wounds. As unique as I feel my story is, I know I'm pretty textbook. Overachieving leader, divorced parents, child of an alcoholic, etc. Steve Jobs has been a therapist for executives for years and years and, like a priest in the confessional, has no doubt heard EVERYTHING. Here I am, thinking I'm all unique and special, and I show up with all the same problems everyone else in the world has.
Hey, some perspective isn't a bad thing. I'm the most unique textbook case he's ever seen. Ha.
I AM realizing that our childhoods and formative years have a huge influence on us as adults. The messages that are "baked into" us as kids keep reemerging in our adult lives and decisions. That self-talk is learned early and it's very hard to change those patterns. By the time you're 30 or 40, those patterns are in the chemicals of your brain.
The journey has been pretty great. Hard and weird, but great. After my first session, I drove home feeling weirdly vulnerable. I wasn't used to revealing things about myself that weren't within the sanctity of my marriage, within the safe boundaries of friends and family, or protected by the seal of confession. I felt raw and exposed, weirded out that I was telling a perfect stranger about my insecurities and worries in life. I felt as though I was betraying the pact of secrecy that I had with myself (see? Weird!) Yet, with each subsequent session, I find myself hungry for the new questions Steve Jobs was going to ask me.
Tonight, it was all about trust. He is thinking that I do not trust myself (hence my fears about incompetence at work). My homework this week is to percolate some thoughts about trust and authority and why I do not always trust myself (and the times during which this happens). This is actually easy homework. When I first started seeing Steve, he asked me things like, "where does your fear originate?" and "what makes you happy?" and "are there any areas of tension in your life?" At one point, I actually caught myself saying "I have to sell my authenticity." Which is just hillarious. It's deep stuff. Jack and I spend hours rehashing these questions and what they mean to us both. We drank a lot of wine because it's weird to explore these questions. It's weird to explore your inner conscious and early life history with someone, even if they are your spouse. You end up with strange conclusions and unsettling questions that further encourage deep reflection.
Deep reflection hurts like hell. But it's akin to digging out a lingering infection - of course it's going to smart. Reflection, and the prayer that tends to result (at least for me), is like Chapstick for my soul. It helps soothe the damage and protect against further hurt. Jack has been wonderful because he puts up with my incessant chatter about Steve Jobs' homework but also because he encourages me to go further, to make more connections. He joins his story to mine and our marriage becomes even more awesome because this process invites another whole realm of vulnerability.
Vulnerability is attractive. When you're vulnerable, you admit that you're not God. It is highly recommended in healthy relationships.
The other thing I've realized is that deep reflection has to be rationed. I can't do too much or I find myself totally exhausted (or worse, in a huge bathtub of bubbles, chugging herbal tea, eating ice cream sandwiches by the fistful). So I'm taking my homework "on vacation" this week, as I visit Fort Lauderdale tomorrow for a mere 26 hours for a hospital site visit. Part of me needs to remind myself that I *get* to jet off to Florida, all expenses paid, to check out a CT scanner. How freaking cool is that? I have an ocean-view suite tomorrow night on the beach (and yes, I will be sneaking off at some point for a late night swim in the ocean). I will be returning to Florida next week, when we visit yet another hospital site. This time we will be in Gainesville. I never thought I would be one of those people in the airport, dressed in a suit, pacing while I talk on my cell phone about purchase orders and physician issues.
Ugh. If you see me doing that, please bonk me on the head, hand me a People magazine, and tell me to chill my ass out? Then ask me if I've completed my Steve Jobs homework. I'm on a journey here.
Things will get better. Things HAVE to get better. Hey, at least I'll be in the ocean tomorrow night.
No comments:
Post a Comment