First Session: Adventures in Counseling

The Hubs and my first session Thursday with the couples therapist went well, so I feel comfortable writing a few words about it here.





I spent most of Thursday trying desperately to avoid my intense feelings of anxiety and dread. I was worried about how it would all play out. While I'm well-versed at individual therapy, I'm unclear with how it works with more than two people in the room. And for some reason I was worried that Alex was going to drop a bomb of sorts. "If we don't have another child, I don't want to stay married to you." Of course, that is not at all how it went down.




Fortunately for me and my fragile state that day, the Bean spent the morning at daycare/preschool, we had a few nice hours together, and then my dad met us at George Rogers Park to take her off my hands and for a special dinner date at La Provence.





Nothing about the therapy session itself was negative - there was no arguing, no fighting, no real disagreeing - but it was awkward and uncomfortable of sorts, given my general dislike of talking/expressing my feelings. The majority of the 90-minute visit was spent getting Dr. Julie, as I've come to refer to her, up to speed about each of our individual histories, as well as our history as a couple. I did most of the talking initially (no surprise there), and then Alex got a chance to present his side of the story. It was an opportunity for us each to say things to each other, or just out loud in general, that maybe we haven't even fully realized, or don't feel comfortable or "safe" to say in the context of our home environment or our day-to-day lives. I was able to express to Alex just how miserable I have been on and off the last year-plus. To describe that sometimes simply waking up in the morning and being alive feels hard for me, let alone working part-time and trying to be a good mother and wife. To explain my frustrations with the (in)fertility process, and my recent realization that maybe I feel complete just as my family is. To share that sometimes I think he would be better served in a relationship with a woman with simpler needs and desires, to make and raise a family and care for a home.




The therapist asked a few pointed questions that I found somewhat thought-provoking and memorable, for example, she asked each of us what we "got out of the relationship." She also described some of our communication breakdowns as related to our "misaligned GPS systems." First I joked that Alex, of course, got the expensive fancy version, while I got the 1991 Volvo wagon of GPS devices. He countered that, in fact, my emotional GPS is much more finely-tuned and sensitive; that he operates in the world with simply a compass. I could buy that analogy as well. Dr. Julie "strongly encouraged" me to continue with individual counseling, and recommended I engage with a therapist who specializes in "trauma." (Of note, she made zero recommendation for Alex to do any individual counseling. Just sayin'.) Interestingly, she pointed out that my change in desires for another baby occurred when Francie was aged 3-3.5, which is approximately the same age I was when my mom was first diagnosed with breast cancer. She suggested that issues related to that "developmental trauma" might be "bubbling up," as they tend to do when parenting a child of the same age. Dr. Julie explained that young children experience the world physically, rather than verbally as adults do, and that it is possible that my many years of talk therapy have not tapped into the physical manifestations of pre-verbal "traumas." Even as I write this here, I struggle with accepting the idea that I had a "traumatic childhood" - I was raised in a warm and loving family who very much supported and nurtured me - I have never been abused, was not a foster child, was not born in a war-torn country or reared in a Russian orphanage. She encouraged me to explore that idea and see if it fits, and to find a therapist who specializes in "somatic psychotherapy." Given that my wonderful therapist of more than one year, Kathryn, is switching jobs and leaving me at the end of the year, Dr. Julie's recommendations are certainly food for thought.




I won't share anything about therapy on Alex's behalf, because that's only his place to do so. He likely is violently uncomfortably with the idea that anyone even knows we went, let alone the fact that I wrote about it. But I will say that we left the appointment holding hands and with a "mindful hug", agreed that Dr. Julie seems like a good fit, and made another appointment for the following week. In some ways I feel like we've been more loving and kind and compassionate with one another in the past few days than we have been in months. Not that there's been any absence of joy or affection between us, not at all in fact, but I felt a certain level of, dare I say, emotional intimacy, that can be hard to come by in the throes of regular grown-up life.




And, of course, on the heels of me telling Dr. Julie all the wonderful things I know about Alex to be true (funny, kind, compassionate, open, loving, laid-back, hard-working, dedicate, loyal, handsome, etc.), he was presented with the opportunity to show off. We arrived to the appointment in separate cars, and afterward Alex agreed to go pickup the Bean and I would head to get us some takeout dinner. The car turning in front of Alex stalled out in the middle of the road. In the pitch dark. On a main highway through LO. While my instinct was to obey the green light and drive around the stalled car and carry on my own way (character reveal), he had to go and be a hero and push the SUV out of the street and over to a curb and rescue a very grateful woman. Show off.