Each time, at the end of my session, my counselor gives me homework, of sorts.
I know it’s meant as something to center my thinking and as a therapy outside of the confines of her office. I get that and I struggle with her questions. Two months ago the question was: what do you think causes your “daddy issues?”
Weighted question much?
My answer?
Trust…or lack thereof.
Last month, I asked if I would always have to be in therapy…if I would ever get “well.” Needless to say, my homework for this month was, “What does well look like?”
Jaysus, woman! Can’t a girl get a break?!
And I don’t have an answer. My problems have never been big enough to keep me from functioning; I’ve always done what I had to do to get from one day to the next. Granted, it might not have been 100% or even 25% but stuff got done and I carried on.
Well. Whole. Fixed. Cured. Sane.
I have no fucking clue. I don’t know what all those things mean with regards to me. I lack a measuring stick.
If I had experienced soul sucking-I can’t get out of bed-I want to die every second of every day-pain then I would expect to not feel that way as being a sign of “well.” I’ve been to the, “Let’s plan everything out and make a note and figure out what will hurt the least.” kind of place. I’ve looked down over that ledge and I’ve stepped back; my love for Mom did that. I haven’t been to that ledge in a very long time.
Now, I don’t know what “well” looks like.
I don’t want to be that woman who has to be in therapy for the rest of her life. That shit’s expensive after a while! Maybe “well” is not needing to go to therapy? Maybe once I’ve laid it all out on the table and picked it up and looked at it and turned it over and dissected it down to it’s most basic parts I will be able to throw it out like the rubbish it is and move on.
Maybe that is “well?”
I’m at a loss. I don’t know. And I’m not hopeless…not by a long shot but I do wonder if I’ll ever get to that place.
What the hell does “well” look like?
