Thursday, April 4, 2013

Making therapists cry one visit at a time...

"We delight in the beauty of the butterfly, but rarely admit the changes it has gone through to achieve that beauty." Mayo Angelou

Well, Maya, I get it.   I didn't want to get it, I fought it, I'd ignored it but I get it.

I tried a new therapist today.  I appreciated the first one I tried right after everything happened but she was hung up on me journaling my feelings out and as I blog all the time and she had no other suggestions, I decided to try someone else.  I emailed about 20 with a short, "Lost my twin boys in Dec, need someone to talk to."  After many replies, I ended up with the one today.  She worked me in.

I walk in her office and it looked like a butterfly convention had thrown up!  Butterflies everywhere.  A huge butterfly kite.  Butterfly pictures.  Butterfly every.thing!  It annoyed me more than anything to be honest.  Butterflies, for the newbies to my blog, for the longest time have represented hope.  Whenever I was down, whenever I needed a lift, whenever I felt God had given up on me, I'd see a butterfly.  One the size of my hand flew around my head when I left a church service upset.  I ignored it.  It started hitting me in the head.  I was like, Ok, God.  Got it.

2 days before I delivered Fletcher, another mom in the hospital on bedrest gave the other moms Christmas cards.  I opened mine and the message inside was wishing me a Merry Christmas but the card had a butterfly on the front.  We all started crying thinking it was a sign Fletcher would make it.  We all know how that turned out.  And that started my annoyance with the butterfly.

I'm not new to therapists.  I see no shame in talking to someone who can help you see things differently.  The therapist I saw when I was going through my divorce was a nice lady.  Who cried the entire first session as I was rehashing everything.  Thought that wasn't the best sign of how your life is going when you make your therapist cry.

Fast forward, therapist I saw after the boys died, cried.  Therapist today, before I even started talking, said she wasn't taking new patients but as she has a 15 month old, she felt moved to work me in, cried.  As I'm reliving my hell, she cries. I understand.  My story sucks.  But realizing your crap is so bad it makes professionals who deal with crap cry, makes me mad.

I told her the butterflies in her office annoyed me.  She pointed out that butterflies are a sign of transformation.  Duh.  But it made sense to me.  I am transforming.  I still don't understand why the card in the hospital had it but I'm going to let that slide.

This has changed me.  I'm still trying to figure out the depth of the changes.  But one has been a positive that has helped my family, has given me peace and has brought about a lot of good.

I sent a text to someone that I hadn't been able to get along with in the past.  We butted heads, we assumed the worst about each other and we rarely had anything positive to think about the other.  I never looked at the why.  I've done nothing lately but look at the why's.  I changed my heart towards her and opened myself up to understanding.  And it has made life so much easier.  Not just easier, happier.  Not just for me, for my family.

I sent another text to someone else that I haven't been able to get along with and it blew up in my face.  You win some, you lose some.

I am changing.  Right now I fear I'm transforming into an orange because I spray tanned but that's beside the point.  I don't understand why I lost my boys.  I don't understand the 11 days that separated their births and ultimately their deaths.  I don't understand why this is my story but I'm ready to give myself some credit.

I'm still half past crazy.  Last night as I was holding Coco, I broke down.  I felt so much guilt for taking her away from her mom.  C-razy!!


I get out of bed.

I helped plan, decorate, make some cute things and collaborated with J on the cake for A's bday party this weekend.

I am trying to make myself feel better physically.  I haven't felt pretty lately. This spray tan may have been counterproductive to that.


I'm moving forward.  At a snail's pace in my mind, but moving forward none the less with the orange glow of transformation.  Or spray tan.  Whatev.

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