At the end of the month I’m going to start going to therapy. I’m writing about this mostly because I need to quell the noise in my head about it. Here’s the thing – I think I’m too smart for therapy.
I am pretty much of the belief that anything my therapist asks me, I will have the right and appropriate answer to and she will laugh heartily and tell me that I am one of the “normal” people who doesn’t really need therapy. Except in the back of my mind, I keep thinking after 10 minutes she’s going to suggest that I start coming twice a week because my issues are vast and unwieldy.
I’m not without my own set of problems. Problems that are probably going to be best served by talking to someone who studies these kinds of things for a living and I suppose that part of me is kind of excited to see what will be said.
My husband doesn’t believe in therapy or medication for any mental issues. He believes in mind over matter and to a certain degree, so do I. I do however, recognize my limitations and I don’t fully expect him (or really anyone for that matter) to understand what I’m going through from an emotional and mental standpoint and contrary to an notions, being thinner is not going to solve all of my problems and I need to learn an effective way of coping that doesn’t involve ice cream or a mcgriddle. And that whole avoidance thing? Starting to wear slightly thin.
In the meantime, I have a lot of questions. Will she laugh at my jokes? Will she think I need to be medicated? Who gave Britney Spears those extensions? Are capri pants a yes or no? These are all things I’m interested in knowing.
No, not me. But it seems that the entire internet done gone and got itself knocked up or just gave birth. The stork must be super tired because he has been work overtime. Congratulations to you and Holy crap, you’re almost there! to you, by the way.
I think if you’d ask me ten years ago where I’d be today, a lot of things would be different. I thought for sure I’d be married with kids. Plural. Of course, ten years ago I was 18 and what the hell did I know then? I know now that I am happily married and okay that we don’t have kids yet. There are enough children in my life to focus my time, attention and money on without me feeling some gaping void. Also, not having kids means that I can still be selfish and pretend that it’s okay to eat out 4 times a week, or that it’s okay to keep buying books from half.com because umm, it’s half.com.
On the flip-side, I’d be lying if I said there isn’t a part of me that can’t wait to see the little person my husband and I could create. A child would quite simply, rock our world and turn our universe on it’s side – and I look forward to that. It’s a way’s off yet before we even get to the let’s really try to do this stage as we have so many big things on the loom. There’s just something about babies though, that make you all warm and fuzzy inside. I suppose it’s their newness. Not tainted by the evils of this big, bad world. They hold so much promise and joy and just good – sometimes, I can’t even wrap my mind around the whole thing.
“Maybe aging is the great humanizer. Maybe it’s what brings us closer together: the collective realization that we’re moving further and further away from our youthful dreams, and well, this? This is what life is. It’s waking up at 5:30 to go to a job you like just ‘ok,’ and it’s Lean Cuisines for lunch and stealing a few minutes here and there in your afternoon to email friends and check blogs and play Sudoku. And it’s paying for a chocolate brownie with three miles on the treadmill, and it’s new years resolutions to eat less and save more and learn to balance your checkbook. It’s looking up old boyfriends on Myspace and finding college roommates and posting pictures that make you look hotter than you feel most days of the week, and it’s looking in the mirror and seeing someone older than you remember before, and it’s so, so much ordinary.”