I took my kids to a therapist yesterday. I won’t get into all of the behind-the-scenes reasons right now. It was just a step that I felt could be useful as they grow and deal with lots of big emotions in their little bodies.
I’ve been going to a therapist since I was diagnosed with cancer. It was one of the necessary pieces to my puzzle. If I was going to take the time to tend to my garden, I was going to really get into the weeds. My illness was not simply in my organs. It was in my mind. And it continues to be stowed away in my baggage. Some days it feels too heavy to roll up and tuck away. Some days, it fits nicely inside, just so. So I suppose I don’t forsee a time when I stop going to therapy at this point. It’s just as important to me as the meds I take daily.
Life is not just in our bones. It’s in our brains.
I feel like there is such a stigma about therapy. Like it’s so 2018 to take your kids to a shrink. I feel like people think that if you take someone to therapy, it’s because they’re broken. But through my experience, I’ve learned that it’s quite the opposite. Therapy is not about fixing. It’s about learning how to love those things that set us apart. And learning how to cope when life feels hard. Because two things are certain: life ain’t always gonna be easy. And we ain’t gonna be perfect. I know those things too well. Therapy is honestly much more useful for those strong enough to talk openly about their own selves knowing that if they split themselves open, it will be easier to see all the guts. And all the glory. Clearly, I am a huge fan of therapy:).
My kids aren’t dealing with big, huge mountains. There hasn’t been a big driving force or event. It’s more like small gentle whispers (okay. Or, in some cases, huge roaring tantrums) that lead us to the decision to give it a whirl. I had talked with their {insanely supportive and on-point} school counselor prior to scheduling. I’d told her that I didn’t want to be overreacting… causing an issue out of a non-issue. And she said just what I believe to be true, “If our children told us they had a heart problem, we’d take them to the doctor immediately. Why not look at mental health just the same?” Yes. Yes. Yes. I talked with my sister-in-law who is a psychologist, telling her about the concerns I had surrounding anxiety, perfectionism, and rage fits. She said the same, “Why do people feel like therapy is a bad things?” Yes. And then, I talked with a few friends whose kiddos are also going. Not because they just have time and money to spend on running their kids to and fro. Not because they can’t parent themselves. But because they know, sometimes, okay… most of the time… it takes a village.
I took the boys to therapy yesterday. They were in the playroom as I discussed the reasons for the visit with the therapist. I talked about these children of mine. Their strengths. What they are each separately struggling with. And how I just want them to be humans who can sort through emotions… instead of letting those emotions hold them back.
I took the boys to therapy yesterday. I ended up talking about them for an hour and a half. I ended up telling her about how even though I know that I am not going to die of cancer, cancer made me realize how important it is to tend to all parts of a person. And how, even though I am planning to be here for all of their happenings, there is a chance, truly, that *any one of us* could not be here one day. And I want my children to be able to be the best versions of the people they are.
And the therapist said the best thing, “You and your husband are already doing so much right. And I think, I can provide some other tactics and methods to try.” Yes. I cried. Not because I didn’t think we were doing any of it right. But because she could see right away that our boys, if nothing else, are so loved.
Parenting is quite a thing. We are put in charge of these people. These people we’ve never met. And we are supposed to do it right enough. Right enough that they feel loved. Right enough that they are very useful engines. Right enough that they can deal with social pressures, and the life of a kid today. And mannnnnn… this world today, well… it’s different. Some of it, we can figure out. Some of it we can navigate. Or wing. But some of it, well, most of it, takes a village. And so, I took the boys to therapy yesterday.
The therapist. She solidified my mindset that every single person can benefit from self-discovery. And that while my children know they can talk to us, and Jesus, I believe they will also know, that their quirks are not going to break them… in fact, with the right steam behind them, instead, they will make them.
It was the first time. But won’t be the last. And heck, at least if nothing else, they’ll have something to tell their therapist when they grow up. Right?
