Shrinky Dink

This week I'm working on getting my groove back. I'm back at work, back to writing my book, and working hard on a plan to better care for my mind and body. I spent five out of seven days last week sticking to a strict diet. The weekend involved a pretty heft amount of transgression, but I'm back on track today and trying to stay positive. I had my first session with my brand new shrink this morning. It went well, which was a big relief. It's my first time seeing a male therapist and that made me a little nervous.

I don't have anything against the male gender. Holding a grudge against roughly half the world's population wouldn't be terribly productive, after all. But a lot of the challenges I'm dealing with are so deeply female in nature that I wasn't sure a male perspective could be helpful. Thankfully, I'm able to see a clinical psychologist, so my sessions focus more on my perspective than his.

After countless years of therapy I've learned that there tends to be a big difference in the approach of a psychologist verses a counselor or a therapist. In my experience counselors tend to chatter too much for my taste, and are quicker to suggest solutions or make connections. Some make sarcastic jokes or tell too many personal stories for my liking. Others pushed me into therapy techniques I didn't like or simply rubbed me the wrong way.

I've found that therapy needs to be a safe space for me in order to open myself up and really work things out. The best advice I ever received was to treat the process almost like dating. It won't work with the wrong person, so I've "broken up" with several counselors whose style didn't work for me.

My favorite psychologists have spent most of my sessions listening, and only asking questions or making observations in an effort to nudge me toward making the most important conclusions myself. In fact, they can sometimes frustrate me by not divulging their opinion or trying to solve my problems. It's not what they are there for, after all, and I like being able to trust that they'll keep things professional by not going there.

My first session with "Dr. S." went pretty well. I dished out my most pressing anxieties and traumas without feeling uncomfortable or out of place. Of course, it will take a while before I can really dig in and make progress, but it does feel good to be on the right track. My first assignment was fairly predictable. Dr. S. thinks I need to get more sleep!

I'm meeting with another kind of doctor later this week. On Friday I'll be going to see the same fertility specialist that helped us conceive CC. This round of tests and treatments will be under much different circumstances but I'm hoping that he'll be able to help us again.

I'm still not really emotionally prepared for another pregnancy, but at this point I'm not sure I ever will be. It's funny how there seem to be these universal truths about parenthood. It's never "the right time" to have another baby, no matter how much you might want one. So much of it is out of our hands.

I have to get back to a place where I can allow myself to let go of that illusion of control. The first step is letting go of the pain of past loss, but I'm still having a hard time doing that. I think I keep the pain around as a way to keep Twoleo here with me. It's like I'm afraid to forget her.

Will I ever be able to let her go? Should I let her go? Or is there a way that I can hold her in my heart without having it hurt so much so often?

These questions and more, going on my list for therapy.