March 13, 2004
"There's No Rush"
When I think back to yesterday's session with my therapist, those are the words that stand out most, at the moment.
Disclaimer added ("at the moment") because I suspect other parts of the conversation will emerge gradually once they've worked their way through the maze.
But right now, "there's no rush" stands out.
The context had to do with my frustration with myself in regard to getting things done.
Things, such as anything.
Often when I entertain the thought of clearing out some clutter or taking a walk or writing - small things that I want to do for me - I just don't.
I find excuses. I find stomach aches and headaches and fatigue and depression.
I wonder how this sounds to someone who hasn't experienced similar problems. I wonder myself, why I don't just DO it.
I do some things.
I do the laundry and some cooking and kitchen duty, I keep track of our (and my) finances, I run my bowling league as statistician.
All with minimal angst.
So why can't I do something extra?
"Extra" according to my own standards which have evolved out of nowhere.
After listening to this, Therapist asked if I had accomplished the small goals I established at the previous session, going to the library and writing more.
Yes I had, mostly, and a few other small tasks as well.
From Therapist's point of view this was good. He said that the small things are a start and the bigger ones will follow.
"There's no rush."
Clearly he hasn't seen the inside of my house.
One of the voices in my head (the quiet, calm one) sees some wisdom in Therapist's words. I know, logically, that baby steps are the way to go. I know that the only way large tasks are accomplished is by breaking them into small ones.
I have never, in my logical mind, felt that there WAS a rush despite what some friends and the other voices say.
I remember Jeremy telling me that it was already too late to change my life. Unfortunately, it must have been his life he was really talking about.
Fifty (at that time) was not too late, nor is fifty-two nor even seventy or eighty.
I'm choosing to change things now but much older people often have change thrust upon them and learn to adapt, often for the better.
Some friends, and the very loud voice in my head, strongly encourage me to get on with moving out.
And they are right too, if sometimes for the wrong reason:
"Move out so I can come visit you."
Yeah. Good thing I didn't take that one seriously!
Therapist himself commented that my present situation is not good for me, given the lack of support in my household.
This reminds me of a more recent conversation with another friend, who, when I explained my living situation, asked, "But who supports YOU?"
That question hadn't occurred to me up to that point.
My closest friends, Stephanie and Annie, do as much as friends can do, and more. But they can't be expected to be a daily coaching squad.
I made a point of telling Therapist that I don't look for support from my kids.
I don't want to make them responsible for my emotional well being, even if I could.
These things are a one way street, in my opinion.
Parents support their children, who in turn support their own children.
Financially, emotionally, psychologically, etc.
It's occurred to me that while this is correct, the reason I feel so strongly about it is because that's exactly what my own mother required of me, to be responsible for her emotional well being.
Or so I perceived it.
While it was probably the right decision, I still feel guilty. Sort of. Even though I don't believe in guilt.
I want to say SHE made me feel guilty but she couldn't have done that if I didn't allow it.
Therapist seems to be trying to get me to see that my mother meant well, and I know she did. I don't believe she did anything to me out of malice or spite. I know she loved me in her own way, but that it wasn't a healthy way for me.
Now that I know all this, does it do me any good?
Therapist also seemed confident that I would make the move out of the house if and when I'm ready.
I wish I could be so sure of that.
Putting my marriage back together is not an option, but I know I'm scared to physically move on.
I know this is at the root of why I'm "frozen". Or at least I think it is, along with fifty-two years of various issues.
There will be more but this is enough for one night.
Some things, and people, refuse to be rushed.
Speaking of more, I've begun to post short entries in the blog; when I want to feel that I've written something but it's less than a page-worthy entry on its own.
I also like the baby falcon pic I put on there. He is a tiny ball of fluff who thinks he's so fierce!
This one is on a building in Cleveland, Ohio. The female laid her first egg yesterday and she and the male take turns nest-sitting.
They expect a few more eggs in the next days.
Three cameras refresh every minute during daylight hours and there's an active discussion forum where I found out that I'm not the only one who finds these birds fascinating and adorable, even with regard to their facial expressions!
With all the turmoil going on in the world and in my own head, watching nature take its course is very relaxing and reassuring to me.
Graphics courtesy of