I expected to get gossipy, I expected to have a bit of a session, but really a session that was gossipy about someone else.
Instead my friend turns to me and says “I’m really concerned about you. That place in my heart, that I see when I think of Caitlin, that place has “Concern” written on top of it. You’re just really not happy.”
It was like someone smacked me in the face. Hard. And suddenly. And I had to smile and look bright and at the same time not lie. “No, no, I’m not happy.” All the equilibrium I’d been gaining, all the ground I’d covered, the supplements, the hormone pills the extra pot for sleeping, the exercise out of the house every morning, the new dietary restrictions (low carbs and a TON of fresh greens, zero sugar and very precious little alcohol) all that effort, expense and planning and self discipline just went out the window. I might as well have not done it at all. And fuck the therapy.
Fuck therapy. I’m so tired of working on myself. I’m done. I can’t do any more. I’m smarter than every therapist I’ve ever sat in front of. I’m so familiar with “the process” I can dance circles around it and never really be honest out loud. Fuck therapy.
I’m tired of being the sick one. I’m tired of being the one that’s a mess. I’m so, so very tired of being the one who is a mess and loses my shit in front of people. It’s even happened at work a few times. And I hate that I have a husband attached to me and I have to be an embarrassing mess in front of someone else. It’s just such close quarters.
So let’s identify the happiness buckets shall we?
Partnership (Best Friend / Lover)
Family (Mom / Babies / Sisters)
Comfort / Safety (all set here)
Productive / Doing good (Work)
Creative (None)
Health (Shit)