It happened the way most breakups do.
Uncertainty on both ends.
A mutual understanding that it’s probably for the best to call it quits.
Without either party knowing who’s idea it was to begin with, or really caring to point the finger at all.
What am I talking about? I’ve never had a breakup go that smoothly in my entire life.
But then again, this wasn’t your typical breakup.
Because today, my therapist dumped me.
Or I dumped her.
Who can ever remember how it is that these things happen anyway?
Because for the first time in my life: the decision was actually mutual.
After over a year of seeing each other, Dr. Headshrink and I are calling it quits.
It came to an end innocently enough.
The buildup starting months ago I suppose.
I cut my appointments down to just once a month sometime earlier this year, and that was working for me. But more and more over the last few months, I started to feel like my need to talk to someone about all things infertility related just wasn’t as great. I wasn’t walking into her office and plopping down in a pile of tears every visit as I once did. There wasn’t the same tightness in my chest I once felt in anticipation of our meetings. I was no longer walking away feeling raw and exposed.
In fact, more and more lately our appointments had turned into gossip sessions centered solely around my love life.
My chaotic, messy, never-gonna-be-easy-because-I-like-to-make-things-complicated love life.
Gossip sessions I was in turn also having with all of my closest friends. So while there were of course insights that came out of these conversations with Dr. Headshrink that I likely needed and benefitted from, our time together was no longer meeting the original goal.
To help me deal with my grief over infertility.
Perhaps because that grief, while not completely dissipated (I’m not sure it ever will be) has found its way to an appropriate place in the back on my mind. Still creeping up and biting me in the ass from time to time (as to be expected), but always settling back down now within an appropriate amount of time.
Basically, my feelings (and hurt, and remorse, and grief, and sadness) over my inability to carry a child have all become quite… appropriate.
I was talking to the roommate this morning as we each prepared for work, and telling her that I didn’t even know what I was going to talk to Dr. Headshrink about today.
I joked that I was paying someone to spend an hour listening to me bitch about my life, and I didn’t even really feel like I had anything bitch-worthy to share.
The roommate, who it turns out is wonderful at employing all kinds of logic when it comes to interacting with me, stated simply “Why don’t you quit going?”
“Be-be-be-because…” I sputtered. “What if I quit going and then something happens that makes me feel like I can’t cope with infertility again?”
“Well,” she stated. “Couldn’t you just go back if that happened?”
Touché.
I thought about it the rest of the morning, in the hours leading up to my appointment.
Why was I still going?
I’ve been doing good. Not just physically, but mentally as well.
Yes, there have been a few rough moments over the last few months. A few bumps in the road to be sure. But you know what? I’ve been dealing. I’ve been dealing with it all. Taking it on, sorting through the issues, and moving on. Smiling, laughing, and surrounding myself with people I care about. Finally, for the first time in what seems like such a long time, being the kind of friend to my friends that they have been to me over the last few years.
The kind of friend I know I always used to be. Before…
Before infertility and endometriosis made me so singularly focused, and so incredibly broken hearted, that I could no longer focus on anyone or anything besides myself.
Heck, let’s face it, there were days there when it was all I could do to focus on breathing.
But lately, I don’t know what it is exactly, but I feel stronger. Happier. Healthier than I have in a long time.
Even amidst the chaos.
I am proud of how I have come through this. Proud of the steps I have made that a year ago I never would have believed I would be capable of making. Proud of the way in which I have given myself back some power in fighting this disease on my own terms.
Proud of the woman I have proven to be on the other side of infertility.
And in all of that, so much of my perspective has changed.
Yes, there are still moments of sadness. Of course there are moments of sadness. I think I will come up against those moments for a long time. Maybe even forever. But no longer am I that girl so consumed by desperation that she can’t even see straight. It’s true that when I think of a lifetime of never being able to carry a child, my chest still seizes up and I find my vision blurred. But you know what I’ve learned? Not to think of that. Not to even allow my mind to go there. Because the truth is, I have no idea what the future holds. All I know for sure is that no matter what has ever happened to me in my life, I have always managed to find a reason somewhere down the line. And I believe the same will be true for this.
I just have to allow myself to be patient. To breathe. To enjoy the blessings I am given today and hold out for the blessings tomorrow will bring with it.
Because I do believe there are many more blessings to come. And that at some point 10 years from now (or 15, or 20, or whatever), I will get why this is the path I was meant to take.
And I won’t want to trade any of what I have then, for what I’ve had to endure now.
This is what Dr. Headshrink and I were discussing today. The difference a year has made. The fact that a year ago, if someone had said to me any of the millions of things now running through my head, I would have lost my cool and ripped them to pieces. Because I wasn’t ready to see it. I wasn’t ready to hear it. I needed to be enmeshed in my grief in order to move past it.
But now – I’m so much more calm, and rational, and even accepting of my infertility. I don’t feel the same desperation to fight against it. To beat it. To win.
It’s the only problem in my life I have ever taken on and not been able to solve, but even in that – I am finding peace.
Sure only of one thing: Nothing is ever written in stone.
And I have no idea what the future holds.
It’s funny how in that unknown though, I have suddenly found a way to breathe again.
To rebuild my life.
And to focus on who I am. Who I want to be. And what I need to do to get there.
About halfway through my reflections, I noticed Dr. Headshrink smiling at me.
“You really have made a 180.” She said.
And I knew she was right. Because the girl I was when I first walked into her office last September is a far cry from the one I am today.
I’ve found my strength again. I’ve realized that even infertility cannot take that away from me.
“You know,” she said. “With the appointment times that you prefer, I almost always have those slots open. If something came up and you really needed to see me, you could probably get in that week. Or at the very latest, the following week. But I don’t think we need to be doing scheduled visits anymore.”
And just like that – Dr. Headshrink dumped me.
Or I dumped her.
Who can ever remember how it is that these things happen anyway?
Sometimes, they just happen.
And you wake up one day all mentally stable getting dumped by your shrink and told to go on your merry little way.
Like you’re normal or something.
Who knew that day would ever come?
ADSPACE
