The Perfect Storm
I have been released on my own recognizance.
From therapy.
Again.
Third time is a charm (OK, the first time, dad got run over by a car, second time, marital infidelity came calling at 2 a.m.) and we’re hoping that nothing ass-plodes too bad in my life that I go screaming back to the couch (overstuffed chair, actually).
“You’re good,” my therapist said. “Just give me a call every once and again to check in, huh?”
Let’s put this in perspective. I’ve worked on experiencing my feelings, rather than burying them so they come out in fits and starts; I’ve worked toward not being a rescuer; mainly, I have worked on being an advocate for ThomG.
If I take care of myself first and foremost, I can take care of others even better.
The things I cannot control that churn on the margins of my life do not pain me. This is a huge accomplishment.
It’s like I’m a tiny craft on a vast and stormy ocean. I am water-tight, ship-shape. Cruising toward paradise.
In stormy seas.
If I take care of the craft, steer correctly and confidently, I will ride the storm out. And I will have the confidence and experience to ride out the next storm (or set of storms, since here at Surface Tension it is a continuous blender of the weather vortex).
“They” say time heals all wounds.
Sometimes, you have to take both your hands, reach behind you and grab your own ass.
And not be afraid to seek out the help of a trained therapist.
Who also talks about faith and spirituality.
And you stand on his porch, shrug your shoulders, figure you want to hug, but that’s not real manly, so you shake hands and look into day going to twilight and smile.
Knowing what you know now has made a major difference in your life.
Oh, still a work in progress, but having made the progress.
To be the advocate for myself.
To experience the richness of my emotions.
To continue to be the man I want to be.
From therapy.
Again.
Third time is a charm (OK, the first time, dad got run over by a car, second time, marital infidelity came calling at 2 a.m.) and we’re hoping that nothing ass-plodes too bad in my life that I go screaming back to the couch (overstuffed chair, actually).
“You’re good,” my therapist said. “Just give me a call every once and again to check in, huh?”
Let’s put this in perspective. I’ve worked on experiencing my feelings, rather than burying them so they come out in fits and starts; I’ve worked toward not being a rescuer; mainly, I have worked on being an advocate for ThomG.
If I take care of myself first and foremost, I can take care of others even better.
The things I cannot control that churn on the margins of my life do not pain me. This is a huge accomplishment.
It’s like I’m a tiny craft on a vast and stormy ocean. I am water-tight, ship-shape. Cruising toward paradise.
In stormy seas.
If I take care of the craft, steer correctly and confidently, I will ride the storm out. And I will have the confidence and experience to ride out the next storm (or set of storms, since here at Surface Tension it is a continuous blender of the weather vortex).
“They” say time heals all wounds.
Sometimes, you have to take both your hands, reach behind you and grab your own ass.
And not be afraid to seek out the help of a trained therapist.
Who also talks about faith and spirituality.
And you stand on his porch, shrug your shoulders, figure you want to hug, but that’s not real manly, so you shake hands and look into day going to twilight and smile.
Knowing what you know now has made a major difference in your life.
Oh, still a work in progress, but having made the progress.
To be the advocate for myself.
To experience the richness of my emotions.
To continue to be the man I want to be.
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