Thursday Therapy: Inaugural Edition

I’m starting a new feature here. Given that I see my therapist on every other Tuesday, and given that I often end up blogging something about what was discussed during therapy, I thought I would start a weekly feature here called Thursday Therapy. I’ll use it to review what I worked on in therapy the Tuesday before and then on the off weeks I’ll use it to think through things I need to discuss on the next Tuesday. It may get a wee bit repetitious as I tend to wallow in the same issues for a while before moving on so feel free to skip these TT posts and wait for more scintillating posts from me. (Not that you’ll ever get that here, so I’m not quite sure why you’re still hanging around, but thanks for hanging around anyway.)

This Tuesday’s Post Mortem
We had talked last session about the break up with BJ. That’s old news, over and done, and I’m tired of expending energy where it is futile to do so. Therefore we (or I) moved on.

Freud’s (for lack of a better name and since I’ll be able to remember it from one time to the next I’m going to call my therapist Freud although he looks nothing like Freud; he really rather resembles the psychiatrist played by Richard Dreyfuss in the movie What About Bob?) office is a plain basic functional office just like many plain basic functional offices in a medical clinic. His office is so unremarkable I can’t even tell you the color of the walls or what may occupy the room other than a few things such as his desk and chair, the relatively comfortable sofa upon which I sit when there, and the digital clock on the table across the room that stares (the clock, not the table or the room) at me incessantly while I am there. Freud is totally unlike the counselor W and I saw back during the adoption debacle a few years back. Where she said nothing more than “and how do you feel about that?” a few times through a session, Freud carries on an actual conversation with me. He inquires, I respond, he feeds back what he understands me to be saying, I clarify if necessary, he gives input or asks for further clarification, I respond. You know, just like real people talking to each other. Can you guess that I like Freud better than the other counselor? Well, if you did you are right. I do.

Anyway, getting back to the meat of Tuesday’s discussion, we addressed the whole issue of reconciliation with W. I told him about my conversation last Sunday with my pastor. He helped me refocus from being concerned about others reacting as though the reconciliation was happy news to focusing on taking care of me and my needs. Now that’s one thing I really like about Freud. He is always bringing the discussion back to me and my needs and acts as though my needs are important. He’s trying to help me to see my needs as important. He has a tough row to hoe there I’m afraid, but God bless him for trying.

We discussed my need to assert myself, to make sure that the relationship is not all about me giving up myself to take care of W. He didn’t try to persuade me, as I’m sure some would, to let him fend for himself. He acknowledged my desire to not turn my back completely on my son’s father. . . which was good because I can’t. I can’t turn my back on W and say “Tough shit; fend for yourself.” I just can’t be that hard hearted. However, I do understand that I need to make sure that my needs are filled as well for if I don’t we’ll be right back to the place we were before – a place so bad that I felt giving W the boot was the only thing I could do. So Freud pointed out some areas that where I needed to be clear on boundaries – like finances, intimacy, parenting, and so forth – so that I can carve out a little comfort zone for myself.

Also, Freud seems to think that my frame of mind is better than it has been the last couple of times I’ve seen him. I believe he’s right. I believe that so much of my depression comes on me when I feel I have no choices and no control in my life. It helps a great deal when I can come around to a place where I do have some say and a bit of control over situations, where I’m doing things by my choice rather than going along because I have no choice.

And our time is up for this week’s therapy session. Until next time. . .