It’s been a while since I’ve posted about my therapist. Don’t you all miss hearing about him? I bet a few of you miss abusing him in comments!
We managed to have a whole session today without once talking about the fact that verily, I am as like Antarctica, arid and barren of all life, only without the penguin shit.
Instead we talked about prioritizing. Which things in my life are the most important (as evidenced by how much time and energy I give them), and which things in my life should in fact be the most important. But this conversation was in itself a failure of prioritization, one of many stupid surface issues I talk about in my therapy sessions. I bitch about my job. I bitch about my ensemble colleagues. I whine and moan about poor, poor stressed out me. None of that is the issue, and I really need to figure out how to get out of the stupid sinkhole of constantly running off at the mouth about the least important things–i.e. the things that are the easiest to talk about.
What is actually at issue is the fact that I am Less. Less than a mother, obviously, but it goes beyond that. I am less than creative; I am less than passionate; I am less than hardworking; I am less than giving. Whether this is objectively true is a question for another time–but it is definitely true within my own mind, and because I am nothing if not a navel-gazer, it is what goes on in my own mind that makes the difference. (A more charitable way to put that last would be that we all create our own realities.) This is something we actually talked about in my last session, and because I am a big crybaby I got all freaked out and my therapist, perhaps wisely, let me run around on the surface of nothing for an hour today.
It felt completely frustrating and unsatisfying. Like I was just saying the same things I have been saying for weeks. And it makes me even more resolved to pull my socks up and start dealing with all the sad hurlyburly on my own, so that I can spend my weekly Official Navel-Gazing Hour on the things that matter. More on this later.