You Get Therapy, You Get Therapy, Everyone Gets Therapy!
I was thinking I hadn’t felt all that depressed this winter. Then I realized that everyone else is also depressed so I’m only less depressed by comparison. It’s difficult to wallow in this temporary darkness when we are all engulfed in an existential muck. We are all Artax and we’re walking through the Swamp of Sadness. Even the most optimistic among us are Atreyu, at best — doomed to keep up that grim determination lest The Nothing descend upon us all.
Luckily (I guess), I have tons of experience at living life even when everything seems harder than normal. I can function my way through skin-crawling anxiety attacks. I can get out of bed on the worst days, though I may find myself sneaking back under the covers at 8 pm. I’m not one to completely lose hope — even if I can’t see how we get through to the other side in one piece.
Life keeps going, as life tends to do
Rowan had his follow-up hearing test — mostly passing, though one of his newly-placed ear tubes is clogged, which means peroxide drops for a while and another follow up in a month.
We spent the last week finally making a real attempt at night weaning him. Being a human pacifier to a tiny person who refuses to take an actual pacifier was not sustainable. I slept in Lorelei’s room and let Zach deal with Rowan for a week. I had hopes of getting some decent sleep but of course ended up with a sinus infection that led to coughing myself painfully awake multiple times per night.
I’m back in my room now, sleeping with two layers of shirts so that Rowan can’t get to my boobs in the middle of the night. It is actually going pretty well.
I took Lorelei to the doctor for recurrent stomach aches.
We decided they are a mix of reflux and anxiety. She recommended a therapist for Lorelei, which is something I had already been strongly considering. Lorelei had actually asked me for a therapist at one point but I was hoping the school counselor would be enough. After speaking to a friend who is a school psychologist, I decided having extra help wouldn’t hurt. Unfortunately, it is a damn difficult to find a child therapist who both takes my insurance and has late afternoon availability. I think I finally have someone, but now I’m trying to pin down an intake appointment.
There are probably not many six-year-olds who beg their mother daily for a therapist appointment. I think this is a good thing. The doctor complimented Lorelei’s ability to express her feelings and what is going on inside her head.
It has been almost 11 weeks since the last time I saw my own therapist.
Probably another 4-5 weeks before she returns. I want to complain about the timing of her maternity leave but obviously I know that she a) could not pick the exact time at which to get pregnant, b) is not going to time her leave around one client’s needs, and c) could never have predicted that Trump would win the presidency the very week she went on leave! But gah! I need some therapy right now, for sure.
Her absence has been a good thing in a couple of ways. I have had a chance to step back and see more clearly how much therapy has helped. And I can see some places where I was getting stuck and staying quiet, where I actually need to push through and talk. I’m making a list of things to talk about when she returns. She’ll probably wish she had stayed home.
In the midst of all this, my best friend Steven came to visit.
I only see him once every 1-2 years and we all miss him. Rowan’s middle name is Steven, after him. Unfortunately, Rowan is in a major stranger danger nobody-but-mommy-and-daddy phase.
He had warmed up to him by the time he left, at least. We had a big group “family” dinner at Charlotte’s house and he spent a fair amount of time cuddled up to uncle Steven.
