Here's a Cigar--Tell Me About Your Mother

So, as I mentioned before, I'm in therapy. I have been for a little while. Mainly I went because I was very stressed out; I wanted to figure out why I keep getting myself involved in all these projects that tangle me up and control all my time. Why does that always seem to happen? What am I getting out of it? I'm at the most successful I've ever been in life. I'm very satisfied with who I am as a person; I love my job. I've got the amount of institutional education I want. I've got a great kid. My marriage doesn't suck. I'm not trapped in ludicrous self esteem battles with my mother. I know what I want out of life. I won a fucking award. I'm good at what I do.

I should be really happy right now, but I'm just not. To be fair, I'm not sad or miserable, either. I'm just really stressed out. I keep having physical stress reactions to things that shouldn't be that stressful. It eats away at me. At this point in my life, things should be getting better, not worse. There is nothing going on in my life right now that even remotely resembles the life I came from. Misunderstandings with El Hijo cannot even begin to compare to a physical fight between me and an alcoholic whom I tried to run over with my car to get away from (are you dead yet, fucker?). Giving presentations and getting up in front of 44 people every other day to teach should not be as stressful as figuring out how you and your one year old baby are going to eat for the next two weeks. Or having your sister burst into your room screaming "Daddy's dead!!" It sooo does not compare.

But I have the same stress reactions that I had then. My body hasn't learned to shut it off, I guess. I still sleep like crap at night. I startle awake easy. I have the most severe gut cramps you could imagine. It doubles me over sometimes. Sometimes the sleep/startle thing is so bad I have to sleep on the couch. That helps for some reason. It always feels like the other boot is going to drop. I'd like to make those feelings go away. I can get a hell of a lot done. But I'd like to do it without feeling entrenched in war all the time. Plus, I'm almost done with grad school. 5 1/2 weeks to go! Once I've finished, if I don't figure out why I'm doing what I'm doing, I'll just fill it up with a new job of some sort.

So, I go to therapy every week now. It's not what I expected. But one of the first things I learned is that I have a certain set of expectations that have helped me survive up to this point, but they no longer apply to life as it is now. So he thinks. (I know, I'm working on it!) I need to change my expectations. Heh. Easier said than done. I like Dr. Ian. I thought he was going to push pills on me (he didn't) or not understand what a fucked up JW background can do to you (he does) or the fact that I use sarcasm and humor to cover over the things that make me uncomfortable (he pointed that out). I like going to see him.

He asked if I had anyone to tell these things to. Apart from talking poor El Hijo's head off, not really. I have some good buddies up here, but I don't have a bff. She's back in Kentucky and dealing with her own problems. But, hey, I do have You, right? So, dear readers, you get to be a part of my therapy now (as if you weren't before). Don't you feel special?

-- Virgil