You know what I hate? I hate starting every one of these godsdamn posts with an apology for why I fell off the face of the planet for the past however many days/weeks/months/years/whathaveyou. So you know what? I'm not gonna do it.
So, once upon a time, I was going to document my therapy journey. But then I didn't. And no one was surprised. The truth, however, is that most Monday mornings, I begin my week by meeting with my therapist and talking about myself. Because, really, who doesn't want to start their week by talking about me? Truly, I highly recommend it.
And during all that talking, we've been able to paint a more complete picture of how and why I came to be this crazy, messy self and what I might do to get my proverbial shit together. It's been extremely illuminating and more than a bit mind-blowing, especially as a new diagnosis was made--which was something I did not expect in the slightest, but which puts so incredibly much in perspective and has been extraordinarily helpful in understanding why I operate the way I do (or don't operate, as the case may be). And believe it or not, I actually wrote an entire post about it over the last few days, but decided there was just too much to cover in one post, and I'm still a bit unsure how to go about properly and fully explaining the implications anyway, so I'll leave it at that for now.
I also received a new health diagnosis this fall to add to the pile, which also has enormous implications in terms of my reproductive health and history, including our "unexplained" infertility and potentially King Toad Agooga's initial health issues and stay in the NICU. It's been a huge amount to process and will provide lots of future post fodder, I'm sure.
All in all, I feel like several pieces of the puzzle that is my complicated self have finally been uncovered, offering a boatload of perspective, insight, and understanding. As someone who values information in order to continually expand and tighten the focus of the picture that is life, I'm happy with this progress, even if it's brought some intense emotions to the surface.
And through it all, I've been encouraged by people I respect and admire to, if I do nothing else, continue my writing. As you know well, I struggle in this arena. Big time. So I make no promises, as I am not naive enough for that. But my intention is to write. Every day. Whether blogging, journaling, working on my story, etc. Just write. Write, write, write, write, write. All the livelong day.
Or at least the few minutes I can steal here and there.
Good enough, right?