Hugs all around

Today was my last day of therapy. I doubt I am really all the way fixed but I am well on my way.

Plus, my therapist is going on maternity leave, so it was a good time to end. I will probably pick up some more sessions in September when the kid heads to college.

So I don't know if Wednesday will be the day of pain anymore. It may become the day of going to a movie, a day of reading, a day of anything goes. It seems exhilarating! I celebrated with a day of coffee and a lovely piece of lemon loaf.

Tasty! I really wanted a cupcake but I guess the entire Seattle area did as well, since I couldn't find one. Lemon loaf was second choice. Poor lemon loaf, always the bridesmaid, never the bride.

My therapist hugged me and said she was proud of all the work I had done and how far I had come. My doctor also spends quite a bit of time hugging me. I am not a hugger by nature. In fact, I am not a toucher by nature.

I think it has something to do with how I was raised. My family was not a feel good family. We were more like a don't do better than your parents because you will be consider uppity and will need to be ripped right back down family. Praise wasn't handed out. I can't remember the last time I was hugged by my parents. It was just the way it was.

The kid I hug all the time, even if I have to tackle him to do it. I say I love you all the time. His father will offer to shake his hand, as if to say "Hey! nice doing business with ya." He is strange that way (and many other ways that we will save for another day).

So I am always a little taken aback when someone hugs me. What is the hugging protocol? How long is too long? Where do arms go? It is all confusing to me. I like things to be written down, instructions to be known to all parties involved.

My therapist asked before she hugged me, my doctor never does. The first time my doctor hugged me, I almost injured myself leaping backwards. I'm sure it seemed rude but I actually had no idea it was coming my way. I need to plan for things, especially touching things. It is my way. Now I am used to it and know it is coming at the end of each doctor visit.

I am almost comfortable with the doctor hugs. The first few times it was like she was hugging a fence board. I just stood there, immobile and slightly terrified. Now I am no cooked noodle but I am not ramrod straight either. A few more years and I should be almost normal. Well, in the hugging department anyway.

Now I think I will go and hug the dog. I would hug the kid but this is finals week and that will be like hugging a very pissed off grizzly bear. No matter how much strides I have made in the hugging department, I am so not ready for that.

Just pull yourself up by your boot-straps - NOT

I am in therapy.

There, I said it. Something I thought I would never utter in my life. I didn't really have anything against it, I just thought you pushed on through the problems. Sucked it up. Used the power of positive thinking. Pulled yourself up using your boot straps.

I was wrong.

Dead wrong.

My world came crashing down on me six months ago. The life I had built and worked so hard for was no more. My husband had an affair. It's funny how insignificant those five words look when I type them. On my page they seem to have no more power than the sentence that came before them or after them, yet they packed a wallop of a punch. One good hit and I was down for the count, or so I thought.

While all this was happening I was going through some health issues as well. It seemed that the hits just kept on coming and I was drowning. Trying to all of a sudden, run a house on my own, pay bills on my own, fill out college applications on my own, raise my son on my own, make sense of a world all topsy-turvy on my own, was a lot to handle.

Therapy came to the rescue. Oh, it isn't a be all end all, but it is a giant help. I am the one who rescued myself. I found everything I needed to make it inside me. Therapy is the map. With any map, it is only as helpful as the person reading it. If I turn it upside down, or take a wrong turn, that is my fault. The map is still there and I need to try again. and again. and again.

I found that I had more inside me then I knew. More strength then I thought possible. More intelligence then I had been given credit for. More compassion. More humor. More of everything. I lost all of that during my marriage. I didn't have a marriage of equal partnership. I lost myself. Therapy has helped me find, well, me again. A better me. A stronger me. A me I like so much. A me my son is proud of.

The road I travel now is hard, no getting around that. Lots of work ahead for me. I say "Let's Go!" I am prepared and ready. Willing and able. I have the tools inside of me that will enable me to handle what comes next. I have my son who sees that bad decisions made by others can be overcome. That life sometimes just really, really sucks. But it is what we do after we are knocked down that matters.

I don't expect to leap right up and find everything all perfect and rosy. Most days, if I am honest, I am crawling. I'm hoping for a day when I can just sit. I haven't even thought of standing yet, let alone leaping. But it is coming, I feel it and I know it to be true.

Therapy has given me that. Given me hope, courage, and strength to be better than I ever dreamed.

In spite of all that has happened to me, it turns out, that I am lucky indeed.