Moving Toward Healing

I knew that being parents would change our lives forever.  I knew this.

My house would just not be picked up anymore (or clean for very long).

What I did not expect was that my whole life would feel like a mess all the time.  When things got to the point where I knew I couldn't just "tough it out", I got help.  I posted about it. 

Lately, even though I am on some light anti-depressants, I just have been feeling the pressure again.  So today, I went to my first therapy session.  I've done therapy before, for anxiety issues.  And with all that is going on right now, I suspected that the anxiety was creeping back in and the depression was coming back.

Let me back up.  As I posted before, I was under the impression that I was good to go with my job for this coming school year--even if it was teaching Spanish instead of English. Friday I found out that is not the case.  I got the email that I am to report to the informational meeting this week Thursday, and then to the "bid" meeting next week Friday to see if I will have a position.

What a bid meeting entails is listing all the people who could possibly be "displaced" on one big list with their teaching certifications all in seniority order.  Another list shows all the "open" positions.  At the meeting, they will start with the person on the top of the seniority list and that person will choose whatever "open" position they are certified to teach that they want.  If someone ahead of me chooses the position I thought I was assigned for the fall, I will have to pick something else--possibly in my building, possibly not--or not have a job.  If there is nothing available for me that I am certified to teach, I won't have a job.

I don't believe I won't have a job.  I am completely unsure of where I will end up though.

So.

This caused a pretty bad breakdown on my part on Friday.  And now I look around and see chaos again.  I see cheese-it crumbs on my floor.  I see toys everywhere.  I see half-drunk sippies around the house.  This is what my brain feels like.  cluttered.  I can't seem to organize what is going on.  I can't seem to not think (aka worry) about everything in my life.

Now don't get me wrong.  I KNOW other people have it a LOT worse than I do.  There are people who will for sure lose their jobs on Thursday.  My heart aches for them.  There are those who are battling sickness.  We are so blessed to have our health.  I am not complaining.  I'm just stating that all this?  This that is going on with us?  Is messing with MY mental health.

So today I went to therapy.

It was good.  I wasn't prepared for how emotional it would be.  I mean, it was mostly just the therapist asking me background questions about my family that I was raised in, how my husband and I met, what has been going on in the past year since Eddie was born.  The more I "remembered" to throw in, the more her eyes grew.  I guess I've never sat down and said out loud all that has happened to Cort and me since getting married five years ago.  When it's all given at once to a third party, it DOES seem like a lot.

It felt good to know that what I have swirling around in my life, the "shit storm" as we have been calling it, is recognized as tough even to a professional.

Before leaving, I scheduled three more sessions.  I like my therapist so far, and I hope to work with her to achieve the goals we set for me.

I walked out feeling drained and like like I had so much more to tell, but good.  I felt good.

I felt ready to go home to my little woodchuck...who is not only eating his crib (yes, we have special crib covers coming from Target any day now), but he has taken to completely shredding his wooden blocks.  He is my beautiful chaos.

At least he's cute.

And he is worth fighting for.