In addition to the dread of doing the work to find a new therapist who is decent,
part of my resistance to going back to therapy is my thought that I’m supposed to have this shit all figured out.
I’m not stupid.
I’ve been down this road before.
I know what I should be doing.
And then I really thought about things.
The people who are the best athletes in the world don’t get to the top, and stay there, on their own.
They have coaches.
Michael Phelps has help to be Number One.
Tiger Woods is the best golfer in the world.
But sometimes his swing gets messed up.
He still needs a coach to help point out what he is doing wrong.
Sometimes baseball players have slumps.
They swing and they miss.
And their coach helps them get back on track.
So I thought about that, and walked into this new therapist’s office feeling a little better.
She might even tell me I don’t really even need therapy.
I tried to fill her in as best I could, but fitting 44 years of crap into 60 minutes isn’t easy.
I told her about the money issues.
I told her how many kids we have.
I told her about problems with Number 1.
I discussed the death of my brother.
Stress in my marriage.
My stints in various nuthouses and my track record with different therapists.
I told her that I was tired.
That I’ve been functioning on about 4 hours of sleep a night for a while now.
I told her that I’m feeling extremely frustrated because I’ve got so many things I could capitalize on, but I just can’t get to them.
I told her about the blog. How I have built something from nothing.
About how I have written at least one post every day for the past 20 months.
About how I was named one of Parenting.com’s Top 10 Mommy Blogs of 2013.
How I should be able to use that to get some serious cash for advertising, but that I just can’t get the time to do it.
I told her that I coach the swim team.
I told her that I’m running an online fitness course that has become fairly successful.
So you have 7 kids. 5 of them are under the age of eight, and you are writing a blog, running an online course, and coaching the swim team?
I forgot about Team in Training and the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.
So then I told her that I’ve also gotten involved in that, and that I raised over $4000 for the NYC Triathlon in July.
You are raising money for that too? she asked.
Well, yeah. I mean I did it, I told her.
You mean you actually participated in it? she asked.
Uh huh, I told her.
She hadn’t looked at me like I was crazy until then.
Oh. I raised another $4000 for the NYC marathon. I forgot about that too, I told her.
You didn’t run that, did you? she asked.
Yeah. I did, I told her.
And then, all she said was, Okay.
And then she exhaled. For like ten seconds.
We were out of time.
She went over to her laptop to find a time to schedule the next appointment.
I’m only here on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, she told me. It makes scheduling appointments twice a week a little tough.
That’s okay, I said. I don’t think I need to come twice a week.
She paused briefly and looked up from her computer.
Yeah, I think you might, she said.
But we’ll start with next Wednesday and take it from there.
And there I was, one hour earlier, thinking she might tell me my golf swing was just fine.
I guess it’s a little more fucked up than I thought.
Alright. Maybe I’m a little overextended.
But I like the words she used.
So I’m in a little slump.
Just need to make a few adjustments.
And I’m glad I found a new coach who’s gonna help me get back at the top of my game.
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