I've been seeing a therapist for about 6 months (I think - my time warp is time warped). I liked her as a person before I liked her as a therapist. She's terrific as both.
I was rejected by two therapists before I found her. Too much baggage - they weren't sure they could help me. Too much illness - too much stress - too much trauma. Do you have any idea how it feels to be rejected by a therapist? There's a joke in here somewhere, but I still can't find it.
My therapist was #3 and after speaking on the phone, she was eager to help. Atta girl! I ended up where I ended up for a reason.
Anyway... do you know that sound people make when something is eerie... spiritual... supernatural? That high pitched, lonnnnng "wooooooooo woooooooo"? (Can you hear me make the sound? Listen closely)
I felt an instant connection with her the first time I met her. When I described the connection to Michael... I waved my hands slowly in the air and made that "wooooooooo woooooooo" sound. From that moment on, when we talk about my therapist, she's known either by her first name or fondly as "Woowoo". The sound is no longer high pitched and long. We speak it more as one word - woowoo - just as you would "choo-choo" (if you were a person who called a train a choo-choo??).
It's not unusual for Richard to ask... seriously... "When do you see Woowoo next?"
The point of all this?
The illness(es) I have are not stress-friendly. I sought the help of a therapist - not to have "bitch" sessions - but to find a way to manage the stresses in my life in order to maintain my current state of health. It's imperative that I avoid any more deterioration in my health than I've experienced in the past year or so. I found out during the first session that she really enjoys helping with nervous system information and management. Perfect! "Manage away, Woowoo!"
(We'll eventually get to the point! Be patient, please.)
Woowoo explained to me that I am experiencing this much grief and pain (spreading her arms out wide in the "I-love-you-this-much" position, but that my nervous system can only process this much at a time - extending her arm and cupping her hand. She stops me often when I'm upset and asks me to "sit with it a minute" and let my nervous system catch up. It was pretty annoying at first (burned me up, actually), but it's getting better - and I can feel the difference in my body when I take that pause.
The point! (at last)
This morning I woke up with my heart beating erratically (I have a newly discovered heart murmur and arrhythmia) - difficulty taking a breath. I realized that the past day and a half have taken a toll on my nervous system. Today I need to "sit with it" and recover - let my nervous system catch up. I'll do only what's good for me - avoid anything that isn't. Doing what's best for "me" isn't what I always do, but I made a promise to my oldest son on the day Greg died - that I would take care of myself. It's much easier in theory, than in practice, but I did promise.
I have two other children, 8 grandchildren - and every reason to fight to live as long as I possibly can. In the depths of sadness, I don't always remember that. I need to see them all more often - to remind myself how very good life can be.
So... if you're looking for me today... I'll be chillin'.
I was rejected by two therapists before I found her. Too much baggage - they weren't sure they could help me. Too much illness - too much stress - too much trauma. Do you have any idea how it feels to be rejected by a therapist? There's a joke in here somewhere, but I still can't find it.
My therapist was #3 and after speaking on the phone, she was eager to help. Atta girl! I ended up where I ended up for a reason.
Anyway... do you know that sound people make when something is eerie... spiritual... supernatural? That high pitched, lonnnnng "wooooooooo woooooooo"? (Can you hear me make the sound? Listen closely)
I felt an instant connection with her the first time I met her. When I described the connection to Michael... I waved my hands slowly in the air and made that "wooooooooo woooooooo" sound. From that moment on, when we talk about my therapist, she's known either by her first name or fondly as "Woowoo". The sound is no longer high pitched and long. We speak it more as one word - woowoo - just as you would "choo-choo" (if you were a person who called a train a choo-choo??).
It's not unusual for Richard to ask... seriously... "When do you see Woowoo next?"
The point of all this?
The illness(es) I have are not stress-friendly. I sought the help of a therapist - not to have "bitch" sessions - but to find a way to manage the stresses in my life in order to maintain my current state of health. It's imperative that I avoid any more deterioration in my health than I've experienced in the past year or so. I found out during the first session that she really enjoys helping with nervous system information and management. Perfect! "Manage away, Woowoo!"
(We'll eventually get to the point! Be patient, please.)
Woowoo explained to me that I am experiencing this much grief and pain (spreading her arms out wide in the "I-love-you-this-much" position, but that my nervous system can only process this much at a time - extending her arm and cupping her hand. She stops me often when I'm upset and asks me to "sit with it a minute" and let my nervous system catch up. It was pretty annoying at first (burned me up, actually), but it's getting better - and I can feel the difference in my body when I take that pause.
The point! (at last)
This morning I woke up with my heart beating erratically (I have a newly discovered heart murmur and arrhythmia) - difficulty taking a breath. I realized that the past day and a half have taken a toll on my nervous system. Today I need to "sit with it" and recover - let my nervous system catch up. I'll do only what's good for me - avoid anything that isn't. Doing what's best for "me" isn't what I always do, but I made a promise to my oldest son on the day Greg died - that I would take care of myself. It's much easier in theory, than in practice, but I did promise.
I have two other children, 8 grandchildren - and every reason to fight to live as long as I possibly can. In the depths of sadness, I don't always remember that. I need to see them all more often - to remind myself how very good life can be.
So... if you're looking for me today... I'll be chillin'.
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