Yesterday’s therapy appointment was absolutely boring.
The therapist tried to bait me into in-depth discussions of my relationship and why I choose the partners I do, but I was tired–not just physically, but mentally–and, as I told him, “constant navel-gazing is exhausting.”
I had no crisis to discuss, no high-level emotional reactivity to work through, no feelings of discontent or anger. The biggest take-away from this week’s session was a brief conversation on why (codependent) women seem to wander down the path of lesbianism. I cited Elizabeth Gilbert as one such case–two failed marriages, the second left for her partner, now recently deceased. There are several women in my CoDA group who are lesbian.
Is this the path for codependent women, I asked.
Are you afraid you’ll become lesbian?
No, I said. I enjoy men too much.
Perhaps, he speculated, it’s something to do with the dominance and submission in the sexual relationship between a man and a woman.
But that’s what makes it fun, I responded.
After much random conversation, awkward bouts of silence in between, and a refusal to navel-gaze, the session ended with my therapist’s comment: “Your psychic life is much improved.”
That’s fantastic news, really, because between you and me I’m rather tired of constantly examining it.
My daughter texted me yesterday: Fractions are hard.
She’s in the fourth grade. I remember being in the fourth grade myself and feeling completely defeated by fractions.
Yes, they are, I agreed.
She told me she was struggling with reducing fractions.
I asked if there was anything I could help her with.
She replied, No, I’m just saying that fractions are hard.
How did my recently turned 10-year old catapult into a mature 30-year old who has developed the ability of sharing her struggles without expecting another to fix them?
I am still in awe. I wonder if one day she’ll know how much of a role model she is to me. At her young age, she seems to have figured out more about how life works–and I mean really, positively works–than I have at 36. She’s incredible and I am so inspired by how grounded she lives her life, how she approaches difficult situations, and how unflappable she has become.
Yesterday, he was to volunteer his time at the local veteran’s center. They’re a new start-up in town and need a significant amount of help setting up their facility. I intended to let him do his thing, on his own, until he asked me if I was planning on joining him.
I am still recovering from the weekend of pedicure chair horrors, after all. But instead, I pointed the car toward the resource center and arrived shortly after he did.
As it turns out, the work night was cancelled, but there were two project the executive director wanted our assistance on next week. One is a carpentry job that excites him. The other is assembling cubicle dividers donated from a law office that had clearly been in storage for some time.
They were planning to pressure wash them.
I wouldn’t pressure wash these, I said. They’re fabric.
They are? They both began feeling the panels.
She’s right. They are.
Besides, I added, you don’t want to risk the water getting into the electrical outlets at the bottom.
A new plan was hatched: steam cleaning.
The executive director turned to me and said, “See, we need you here! I would have destroyed these.”
I must admit that for a woman who felt like she only found lint in her deep navel-gazing of late, it was nice to feel needed. It was nice to have an answer no one else did. It was nice to be heard and have my opinion respected.
But–and perhaps this next move is a result of all the aforementioned navel-gazing and remodeling of my psychic life: I let it go.
It was a nice moment, but not defining.
By the way, I’m still utterly exhausted from last weekend. That wearing jeans and heels to work is acceptable attire makes me absolutely giddy behind these puffy, sleep-deprived eyes. Or it would, if I had the energy.