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Showing posts from January, 2018

The War.

Early on in the therapeutic relationship that accompanied me as I left my marriage, I told my therapist that I felt like a Navy Seal who had been in Afghanistan for 20 years and it was time to come home. All of the worry and striving and ambition and perfectionism that had carried me out of the chaos of my family of origin into a type of safety that hinged on continued striving was wearing me out.

I was tired. My mother had just died, and I was so crippled by that loss I could barely move. I was  bone-aching, soul-crushingly tired. I was ready to come home.

How was I to know that four years later, the war wouldn’t yet be over.

Since that day, I divorced, I lost my father, and my teenage son’s undiagnosed anxiety became poorly understood and mismanaged depression that then boiled over into a monthlong inpatient stay at a mental hospital - a diagnosis and situation that still takes day to day management.

Is that enough yet? No? How about some more?

I got a job and was laid off, started worki…