As it turns out, I'm not really falling apart at the seams. I'm not combusting, imploding, or going ass over teakettle. Okay. I am. But I'm also having a renaissance. Yup, it's true. Just ask my therapist.
There are many, many reasons why I love my new therapist - not the least of which is her snappy fashion sense. Really, it's snappy. Also - she makes me think. Rethink. Turn with preconceived notions about myself, my life, my relationships, my choices - on their head. It is both discomfitting, and pretty fucking liberating. (To those of you who are feeling all twitchy and embarassed for me because I've mentioned the word therapist a zillion times in this post - I say this - Good lord, why aren't you in therapy? Maybe it's because I was raised by social-worky-types, but I cannot for the life of me figure out why people are so scared of themselves. And as a stay-at-home mama - I frankly find the opportunity to talk about my needs and thoughts for an hour once every two weeks to someone who cares (okay, she cares because I pay her too, but girls with limited chatting opportunities can't be too picky!) pretty effing luxurious. Nuff said). Anyhow - back to the renaissance.
My therapist, whom, as I have already mentioned, is a smart, snappy dresser, had me imagine what I wanted my life to look like in a year. So I thought for a bit (this question is not as easy to answer as one might think) and began to describe what it might look like. I won't bore you with the details, but it wasn't anything too outrageous. And then, we talked about small ways I could go about making some of those imaginings look more like realities. And she said to me something along the lines of: "You're not falling apart. You're having a renaissance!" Now - while it is clear to me that I am actually falling apart a bit - I am sooooo loving this idea of a renaissance.
This change in perspective alone is worth the cost of paying someone to listen to me talk... :) (Like I said - why doesn't everyone go to therapy?!)