I have come to enjoy sessions with my therapist. She was so hard to find, the good ones always seem to be. I find too many MSW’s or LC’s are too accommodating, too reflective or simply just not able to keep up with me. I’m strong-willed, opinionated, and like most of us, I can create a wall of defense behind every bad decision I make. Its hard to find a therapist who can challenge me when they think it necessary, but do so in a way that continues the dialogue.
I think I would make a terrible therapist. I don’t know that I would be able to cope with it if my clients refused to examine their bad choices and make better ones. I don’t see how I could keep myself from smacking a client upside the head who was clearly on the tracks toward disaster and they refused to listen to me. Yes, I most definitely do NOT have a career calling as a therapist.
So at my last appointment, everything was pretty much awesome. She confirmed my instincts on some of the conflict I’m having with my ex, I told her about the new man in my life and instead of chastising me (which I expected) we had some good discussion around when/how the kids should be introduced. We talked about C and his IEP and the sensory stuff, talked about some of the items I’ve ordered for him and some other things I need to consider purchasing. And then, everything took a decidedly downhill turn.
”She’s doing pretty well. Having some focus issues in class, we’re working on some med changes to compensate. Other than that and her normal inability to tolerate her brother, things are pretty awesome.”
"Have you started talking to her about puberty yet?”
I’m sorry, what did you say?
Its not that I haven't talked to my daughter about how women's bodies work, and how grown up women are different than girls physically. Its not that I haven't mentioned in passing, usually in response to questions, about things like body hair and menstrual cycles and bras.
This is all fine and dandy...IN THEORY.
I am not.
To have a daughter who is IN PUBERTY. Come ON, she was a chubby little adorable baby just yesterday! Seriously!
This is, of course, the point in the conversation where my therapist smacks me alongside the head, tells me to stop being such a giant hypocrite and start paying attention to this whole "parenting" thing I'm supposed to be doing.
She sent me home with this pink book I'm supposed to read with her. I get the willies even looking at it. I DON'T WANT TO DO THIS.
I have to do this.