Posts tagged ‘dialectical behavior therapy’

Wild Child

“Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” ~Mary Oliver

Someone I trust more than most recently told me I am a completely different person than I was two years ago when we met. Entrenched in anger, sadness, grief, and frustration, I was miserable. I was coming off the end of cancer treatment, suffering with significant nerve damage and body image issues from the surgery, and trying to manage all things C. No easy tasks on that list.

I ruminated on that statement for a day or two, and I realized something. I’m back. Back to me, my old self, and the happy, adventurous wild woman that I used to be. It looks different now than it did in my 20s, when I would (stupidly) take off alone in my jeep with nothing but a forest service map and some munchies. In my late 40s, adventure to me looks more like being vulnerable, taking on an exciting new job, and speaking my truth. Writing. Engaging. Sharing secrets. Asking for what I want and need.

This journey for me really started with C. Not *that* C, but the Cancer-C. It was the wake up call I needed, it seems. “Hey!” it screamed. “Your life could be over. Is this all there is, is this all you want?” And in the most cliche movie-moment ever, I realized the answer to both those questions was no.

That same someone asked me back then if nothing changed in my life, could I find a way to be happy? I remember groaning at that question, and I probably rolled my eyes. But over time, I realized I had to figure out a way to make that answer into a “yes,” and the solution to that was all me. Not that much has changed – my health still challenges me, and C most definitely still challenges me. Yet I am in a much better place.

The journey here has been full of ups and downs, and I know it will continue to be. But I most definitely know what I want to do with my one wild and precious life, and it is exactly what I am doing.

December 23, 2018 at 4:19 pm Leave a comment

Woke

I read the message of a dear childhood friend with surprise. She talked about the impact of the various health crises of her special needs child on her other children, and how she and her husband had not really tackled that impact well in the midst of everything going on. She is kind of a pillar of amazing-ness to me; she has handled their child’s medical issues with a strength and grace I strive to emulate.

I quickly responded in support that we are all doing our best in any given moment, and I believe that of her completely. I then gently tried to extend that sentiment to myself to see how it felt. I found myself believing it, maybe for the first time ever.

I think I’ve spent 17 years judging – and often judging harshly – myself and how I have handled things with C. I am a fixer at heart, a researcher by trade, and I’m always convinced there is an answer just around the corner. I keep searching for it, because I know if I find it everything will be better.

But I give. I quit. I’m done. No more of that. Whether it took distance from C to realize it, or if I am just waking up, I don’t know. It brings me to tears to think about it – holy cow, I have been hard on myself. From day one, if I’m honest. Not good enough, not doing enough, not doing the right thing, not giving enough, not loving enough. Yet the reality is I have done everything, given everything, and loved so hard it sort of broke me.

I am always doing my best. And I can always do better. Therapist NC wrote this statement on a whiteboard at our very first meeting with him. How I hated that sentiment – and many others – during those early days of therapy. I couldn’t live with dichotomies like that one. I thought it excused things. Gave reasons for C to be an ass and then say he was doing his best in the very next breath (which he did more than once). But perhaps what it really did was bring to light my own deeply-held belief that I was never, ever at my best. Doing better was something I should be doing more of, even though I felt like I was constantly working at it. I had the second part of that therapy statement down, perhaps too much so.

It’s exhausting living with the belief you are never good enough. I am now trying to give myself a little bit of a pass on the “I can always do better” part. Even though I’m not doing exactly as instructed by Therapist Saying #1, I think it’s an okay way for me to work it. Putting down that heavy weight has been a great relief. And in this week of Thanksgiving, I find myself grateful to have finally reached this point of believing I am doing – and have done – my best.

November 18, 2018 at 3:36 pm 2 comments

A Life Worth Living

I stopped writing here mostly because I felt like C’s story was not mine to tell, he was getting older, and he was online. It felt like a violation of his privacy, and I know I run that risk again now. Yet it is not – it should not be – just about him. So much of his story is intertwined with my own, and mine with his. They are impossible to separate, it seems.

However, that is exactly the problem. My problem. In my quest to help C along his path to become a productive and happy adult, I fell into that cliche of a trap that I never thought would happen to me. I lost myself. Or, rather, I lost my identity. I became nothing but wrapped up in all things C, and it dominated my life. I was isolated, lonely, and miserable. My physical health suffered, my mental health suffered, and my marriage suffered. Of those three things, only Hubs didn’t rock the boat by startling me into paying attention. He understood, bless him. My body and mind did not.

First came cancer. Breast cancer, to be exact. I became that statistic that scares most women to their very core. Cancer forced me to focus on myself, something I had not really done since C was born, if I’m honest. I am all the better for it, despite still living in fear of its return. I went from having one friend with cancer to being surrounded by people with cancer, and while that at times makes me very uncomfortable, it also helps challenge my fear of it.

Second came depression, or rather the acknowledgement of it. After nearly a year of C’s therapist repeatedly pulling me aside after family sessions asking if I would like to talk to someone alone, I took the bait and have not looked back. Whether NC is particularly talented or he just landed in my life at the most opportune moment, I will never know for sure, but I take it for the great gift it has been to me.

So now I walk my own path once again. No longer willing to sacrifice every single thing for C, I am still coming to grips with my own judgement about what kind of mother that makes me. At the end of the day, the conclusion at which I must arrive is that it makes me a mother who is alive, in every possible, wonderful, messy way.

 

 

 

October 14, 2018 at 4:12 pm Leave a comment


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