What's That Now?

Almost every Thursday for the past two years, SSG has hauled her ass to therapy.  It has been some of the hardest, most painful work I have ever done.  But it has also been the most rewarding.  

Damn it.

Why can't the EASY stuff be rewarding?

I liken it to Shawshank Redemption where watching Tim Robbins over the years, little by little chiseling his way to freedom sends chills through SSG's body every time she watches it.  SSG thinks of that movie as she hacks away toward freedom too.  

Anyhoo.  I don't talk too much about it but I should.  It is a part of my life at this point in time.  But I worry it might make people uncomfortable and you might think I'm crazy.

So I'm sorry if you're uncomfortable.  But I am kind of crazy.  Though I figure you know that about me by now, right?  Right.

So my therapist is awesome.  From the first night when I sat on the couch across from her and after a couple of minutes of pleasantries, she looked me in the eye and asked very kindly "So, what brings you here?"  And I opened my mouth to answer.  

But instead I started crying.  

Like ugly, heaving breaths snot running all over my face crying.  And she calmly handed me a box of tissue ... and then the trash can as I proceeded to go through the entire box of tissue.  And then she said the most reassuring most perfect thing I could have ever heard at that point.  She said warmly "I will help you.  Every step of the way.  And we'll let it all out in small doses."

And that's exactly what we've done.  

So anyway, I've been feeling restless.  I created a ton of space for myself earlier this year to create something.  I don't know what I wanted to create.  But it was going to be GOOD.  And I wanted some results.  I don't know what kind of results I was expecting.  But I expected them.  And they were going to be HUGE.  

And they aren't here yet.  Two months later.

And SSG has a little problem with patience.

So I was lamenting about all of that last night.  Laying out everything I've been doing.  And that I'm much happier than I WAS, but I'm not you know.  HAPPY.  I'm feeling kind of like "Half Ass SSG."  Like I'm doing a lot, but all of it is kind of ... average.  And I don't know what I'm expecting to be ... Full Ass SSG?  (Because um, check.  SSG has a bootie, internets.)  Whatever, I don't know.  I just don't feel rootedconnectedfulfilledexcited.  Instead I have this huge thought bubble over my head that has me asking ...  "Is this IT?"

Don't get me wrong.  I have A LOT to be grateful for.  I am incredibly pleased with how far I've come.  But I want more.  I want to give more.  I want to be more.  I want to leave this world feeling as if I've made a difference.  And peeps, I'm not FEELIN' IT.  

So I'm saying all of this and explaining to Rock Star Therapist how I lay out my day to accomplish all of these things.  And she just kind of looks at me and says "what are you doing for fun?  That has no end goal in mind.  That's just FUN?"

(Insert SSG's blank stare here.)

Um, come again?

Isn't waking up at 4:30 to give myself time to write, taking the train at 6 a.m. to get to work by 7 a.m. so I can get home by 5 p.m. take Fisher for a walk, cook some dinner and do some writing again before I go to bed and do it all over again fun?  Isn't it?  Come on!  YES IT IS!  UH HUH!

Hmmm ... that doesn't sound like it, no.

All of it must be done, for sure.  And there are elements of each piece that I like.  But it did kind of stump me for the last 15 minutes of our session where I sat there thinking ... hmmm ... what exactly am I doing TO LOOSEN MYSELF THE FUCK UP?

And the answer to that would be um ... nothing.

So now FUN (!) is on the list ... and I know lists aren't fun, but damn it.  SSG is going to find some fucking fun if it kills her.