A long, long time ago, I met a dog. Her name was Pearl. She was something to behold.
Shortly before I knew more about her, I had a half dream, half truth and half awake thought about what I could do to help some animals the heck out of the nightmares of the storms we were living in Florida that year.
The thought involved a plane that would hold many animals and get them to safety. I even thought I might have been insane.
Well, turns out I was, I found a plane, a shit ton of money and safe places for the animals to be. Needless to say, I didn't get much sleep that week. Nor did any of the staff that worked with me at that shelter.
Today, I got a call that probably changed my life in so many ways I can't begin to explain. One of the owners of one of the animals called - she'd tracked me down on Facebook and she wanted to let me know that Ms. Pearl was on her way to heaven soon.
I went through half a box of Kleenex while wrestling with the joy I knew was still part of the equation. .
Someways, it's easier to just be. Others's it's easier to be a pushy broad. And most just fill you up like this day and you pray you have enough Kleenex to cry yourself out of it.
I could not be more grateful. I'm not sure there is enough Love for a day like this. But I do know this - if you don't follow your dreams, you will not help the world be a better place.
Follow on, fellow seekers.
Saturday, October 28, 2017
Thursday, February 23, 2017
Therapy Hangovers
Ever had one? Well, think of drinking about 40 shots of 40 different liquors, toss in some lime, lemon and a good, yet difficult conversation and see how you feel the next day, doing everything you must normally do.
I have therapy hangovers now. I chose to go back into therapy as a live in, full time caregiver for my mom with definitively mixed dementia including Alzheimer's; the moderate stage. I woke up one morning and discovered I was getting lost in the situation, and needed a vacation, if only for an hour a week.
I contacted my mom's Doctor, to ask for a recommendation and first he wanted me to see someone in another town over an hour away, which presented obvious difficulties in the first place, not to mention I know that when I dig deep, driving more than 7 minutes is not the best plan because I'm like a hurricane after some of these discussions - calm, then full on, then calm, then drowning. So, I waited it out a bit, and then he realized that his partner might be a better plan for me for above stated reasons and perhaps a million more including, I know myself much better now. He was blessedly correct about his second recommendation.
I've done therapy for years, usually because someone else said JENNIFER YOU need to be in therapy. I finally acquiesced after several failed attempts by interviewing these people to see if they and I might be a fit for each other. The Doctor I found at that point literally helped me save my own life.
So, 17 years later, I find myself back in, at my own behest and I could not be more happy about it. Excepting the days like today where I have to have Kleenex closer to me than I do water to re-hydrate from the roughness I've still not managed to uncover. I often feel like an onion on these days being carefully peeled layer by layer by a Le Cordon Bleu Chef. Tender, raw and filled with the offer of tears always at the surface. I have to overtly remind myself over and over to be gentle with myself. Sometimes I write it on my mirror the night after a session to wake to the reminder. It doesn't always help, just for the record. Ironically, last visit, he promoted me to twice a month instead of once a week, saying "he noted more grace in me". What? I thought as I walked in yesterday.
It usually takes me about half a day to get it figured out - what is wrong with me? I go through the list - do I have PMS? Is mom ill? Did I sleep? Have I eaten? Then AHA, yes, even with the note on the mirror - THERAPY HANGOVER.
Yesterday's appointment was more emotional than usual so I went through that list with my therapist. Thankfully, he laughed along with me - we checked to be certain all my limbs were functioning and that no, indeed, I was not losing my mind, but this was the very context of going deep.
Oh.
I owe him a box of tissues, from yesterday alone.
The purpose of writing this is to remind myself and who knows who else - there is no shame is seeking help when things turn tough. His job is to remind me they ARE tough and I'm not making that up and to walk through it with as much grace as possible. That, that is all we all can do no matter the challenge.
He must have been a merman in his last life.
In gratitude.
I have therapy hangovers now. I chose to go back into therapy as a live in, full time caregiver for my mom with definitively mixed dementia including Alzheimer's; the moderate stage. I woke up one morning and discovered I was getting lost in the situation, and needed a vacation, if only for an hour a week.
I contacted my mom's Doctor, to ask for a recommendation and first he wanted me to see someone in another town over an hour away, which presented obvious difficulties in the first place, not to mention I know that when I dig deep, driving more than 7 minutes is not the best plan because I'm like a hurricane after some of these discussions - calm, then full on, then calm, then drowning. So, I waited it out a bit, and then he realized that his partner might be a better plan for me for above stated reasons and perhaps a million more including, I know myself much better now. He was blessedly correct about his second recommendation.
I've done therapy for years, usually because someone else said JENNIFER YOU need to be in therapy. I finally acquiesced after several failed attempts by interviewing these people to see if they and I might be a fit for each other. The Doctor I found at that point literally helped me save my own life.
So, 17 years later, I find myself back in, at my own behest and I could not be more happy about it. Excepting the days like today where I have to have Kleenex closer to me than I do water to re-hydrate from the roughness I've still not managed to uncover. I often feel like an onion on these days being carefully peeled layer by layer by a Le Cordon Bleu Chef. Tender, raw and filled with the offer of tears always at the surface. I have to overtly remind myself over and over to be gentle with myself. Sometimes I write it on my mirror the night after a session to wake to the reminder. It doesn't always help, just for the record. Ironically, last visit, he promoted me to twice a month instead of once a week, saying "he noted more grace in me". What? I thought as I walked in yesterday.
It usually takes me about half a day to get it figured out - what is wrong with me? I go through the list - do I have PMS? Is mom ill? Did I sleep? Have I eaten? Then AHA, yes, even with the note on the mirror - THERAPY HANGOVER.
Yesterday's appointment was more emotional than usual so I went through that list with my therapist. Thankfully, he laughed along with me - we checked to be certain all my limbs were functioning and that no, indeed, I was not losing my mind, but this was the very context of going deep.
Oh.
I owe him a box of tissues, from yesterday alone.
The purpose of writing this is to remind myself and who knows who else - there is no shame is seeking help when things turn tough. His job is to remind me they ARE tough and I'm not making that up and to walk through it with as much grace as possible. That, that is all we all can do no matter the challenge.
He must have been a merman in his last life.
In gratitude.
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