I’m a huge proponent of therapy. Unsurprisingly since I’ve spent over half my life engaged with some or other form of it; I used to say that I spend half my life getting fucked up and the other half trying to fix it.
To today. New-ish therapist scheduled our appointment for 1pm which seemed like a great time 2 weeks ago when I was alone at home, but the reality now was that I had a house full of 3 teens – not a great mix as at least one knows no boundaries and would happily listen if possible.
Ever the solution finder, I planned to go out to the very empty (and beautiful) communal gardens – I even felt a little smug about my tranquil and zen location. Right up until the landscaping company arrived with the hedge trimmers….. it’s a very, very large garden and those trimmers are unbelievably loud.
Fuck. 15 minutes to go and off I go to the common across the road, MacBook under my arm, phone to hotspot from, sunglasses on. Not perfect, slightly less smug, the laptop was on the ground meaning I’d be looking down into the screen….but hey, it worked and we kicked off. Then these messages from my 14 year old started popping up on my Mac, saying ‘mum, read this after your therapy…but….’ and therein followed 10 messages. Each of them flashed up on my screen, all of them about a potential holiday destination for our trip next week.
I was beginning to wonder about how much I actually needed therapy and perhaps the level of fucked I am today is really just fine. As good as it gets and all that.
Amazingly, I made it two thirds of the way through and managed to get very into it, when we came to a natural shift and agreed to move on to a related topic. I said that I needed to quickly ask him something on behalf of my eldest who is also a therapist and about to start her doctorate in psychology. She needed some advice and I had offered to ask on her behalf. He answered it, fully and with great responses – super helpful. And then said it was time to wrap it up.
Not sure how often I may have used Fuck My Life, FML, on this blog. But however many times, it really hasn’t been enough.
Life Changing Times 