The therapy never stops.

The beginning of a new year is always seen as a fresh start. Call me a pessimist but I think if you want to change, start now, don't wait until a whole other calendar year to get going on it. But I'm also a procrastinator.

But I firmly believe in reflection and it's so strange to think about what this last year has been. I've celebrated my first wedding anniversary, traveled, quit my job, started school (and did REALLY well!), visited my mother in the hospital, saw her through rehab, heard from my sister for the first time in more than a year (a post on that coming later there's just too much to say), got diagnosed with a genetic blood disorder, read more books in one semester than I have in the last several years combined, got on the dean's list and lost 24.5 pounds.

And I stopped going to therapy. Sometime over the summer my therapist and I decided on a mutual parting of ways after my life settled down and I realized I'm capable of handling the loops and curves that continue to be thrown my way.

The last four months as an example: I went back to college full-time, met some amazing classmates and professors and started thinking about grad school. I also had a difficult diagnosis that threw my health for a loop and haunted my thoughts of later having kids. I didn't get the second dog I so desperately wanted to adopt. I struggled to keep my relationship with my mom on an even keel.

I went to therapy for two long years, once a week, 45 minutes and usually $25 copay along with that. I remember how terrified I was walking into that room to face a man I'd never met and open up the door to all the pain I'd stifled and sometimes ate my way through in my life. But I shit you not- it saved my relationship and it has changed my life.

This semester is an example. I took a chance, a risk and I had to follow through. If I failed at SDSU this semester, I had to face my husband who has so graciously been willing to support our family while I concentrate on school. I would've had to face myself for not putting in enough effort. And this semester I came through with flying colors. I got a 3.68 GPA. I got a B in chicano music (that's what I get for not studying for the midterm), A minuses in Brit Lit and comparative lit and A's in American Lit and Adolescent Lit. I set out with a crazy lofty goal of making dean's list and I f'IN did it.

Before I told anyone else about considering going back to school, my therapist was my first stop at trying out the idea of what my life could be like if I gave myself a second chance. Over the years he helped me realize marriage is a risk but it was a chance worth taking. He helped me realize that taking care of myself isn't selfish, it's necessary to be whole. This was no different. He helped me muster the courage to follow my gut and trust my instincts. And to imagine that my life could take a different path.

It's funny because therapy used to be a closet thing. People were ashamed. Only the crazies went to therapy. And of course, there's the idea that there's a couch and ink blot tests involved. That's so cliche. Then therapy became chic. Rehab is now a televised event. People put their flaws on display to the degree that it's supposed to be eccentric or attractive. Look at me and my neurosis! I heart my flaws! But really all these people, including celebrities that "brag" about their therapy, most of them just risk damaging what real therapy is about. Even after all MY therapy I still find it hard to believe people with millions struggle with "real" problems. Who do they think they are? Human?! Don't try making human seem sexy. You're a celebrity! Suck it up! Or pay someone to suck it up for you! I'm sure there's professional whipping boys sitting around somewhere. If not, where can I apply?

I was fearful of letting people know I was in therapy. I was shameful about it at the beginning. I thought it meant I was broken and had to be fixed. It meant I was out of control. I thought people would act like my problems were contagious. I was convinced they would hide the plastic forks in the break room and look for scars on my body. But I found that over time, as I let people know where I was going every Thursday at 3 p.m., people were intrigued. People revealed they also went to therapy at one point. A few asked for referrals.

Even on the day of my last session I was nervous. Where would I go from here? What if I fell into bad habits again? What if tragedy struck? What if I screwed up my happy marriage overnight? My therapist calmly told me I could do it on my own. And if I ever hit a roadblock, the door was always open.

Okay so it's not all sunshines and rainbows. Sometimes it's stomach viruses (like the one I'm battling today), moments of neurotic fits and emotional molehills. The truth is, therapy never stops.

I still find myself willing to get the reading done I need for class. Willing myself to not put off those necessary things I have to do. And even willing myself to push myself with writing and start pursuing those stories I've had in my head that have never been written. Instead of paying someone else to do it, I've learned to at least tell myself on my worst days that it's really not that bad. I've learned to try and be more patient with my mother, who loves me tremendously and who is doing everything in her power to change. I've learned to remember to look across the table to that husband of mine and ask him about HIS day, instead of ranting.

Next week I'm planning to send a copy of my transcript to my therapist. I'm sure he'll be delighted to see most of the changes I've made have stuck. But like the man who had to continue pushing the rock back up the hill (Sisyphus), it never quite ends. It's those brief moments, those seconds or even days at the top of the hill, when you see how far you've come and the fact that you have accomplished a goal that make the monotony all worth it. Or maybe it's the stomach virus talking and I've been left alone in the house too long today.

Here I sit with the beginning of a new semester just a few weeks away, another rock to push up a hill. But for now- I'm just going to take a deep breath and keep looking at those glorious grades.

Sched #	Course Name	Title	Instructor	Units	Grade
66076	C LT 0562	DRAMA	SHUMAKER,JEANETTE	3.0	A-
66080	CCS 0310	MEXICAN & CHICANO MUSIC	VARGAS,JESUS	3.0	B
66183	ENGL 0502	ADOLESCENCE IN LITERATURE	SHUMAKER,JEANETTE	3.0	A
66194	ENGL 0536	BRIT LIT TO 1660	STAMPFL,BARRY G	3.0	A-
67292	ENGL 0524	LIT OF THE US 1920-1960	CHAMPION,LAURIE	3.0	A

Comments

[Sham Rock]

Good for you, Brianna. Now go and read Ulysses (just for kicks!) ...

[Brianna]

I went to go return my books at the library today and it was closed! What's with these city three-day weekends?
I did read Ordinary People and Chronicle of a Death Foretold already. But I still couldn't figure out who got that chick pregnant. Your thoughts? Cause I don't believe it was Santiago.
But I will leave you with two of my favorite quotes from that book:
"Most of all, he never thought it legitimate that life should make use of so many coincidences forbidden literature, so that there should be the untrammeled fulfillment of a death so clearly foretold."
and
"In folio 382 of the brief he wrote another marginal pronouncement in red ink: Fatality makes us invisible."

[fabianna]

Congratulations on having a productive and meaningful year :)

I agree that mental health should be considered as important as physical well-being. What's with the continuing stigma, world? We all could use some help in processing life's events without the residual and emotional hang-ups.

Here's to the year ahead...

[fabianna]

Congratulations on having a productive and meaningful year :)

I agree that mental health should be considered as important as physical well-being. What's with the continuing stigma, world? We all could use some help in processing life's events without the residual and emotional hang-ups.

Here's to the year ahead...

[Humbert]

I have a question: if you're therapist would've advised against marriage you wouldn't have done it?

[Brianna]

Humbert: I would've gotten married anyway. But he was guiding me through how ridiculous I was being.
Instead of questioning whether I should get married because of things like me and my fiance not getting along (we do), not having a future together (we do) or no love (we have TONS), I was more afraid of messing everything up because I grew up in a broken home and haven't seen a pattern of successful marriages in my everyday life. I mean, it's not like I was marrying into an abusive or codependent relationship. Remarkably, the relationship I have with my husband is the healthiest one I have.
It didn't really have anything to do with my husband or cold feet it was more like my own fears of things going wrong after we got married that was holding me back.
My therapist let me know it's normal to feel vulnerable and realize the gravity of marriage. I guess so many people jump into it without taking it seriously. On the other hand, I was almost fearful of what would happen 10 years down the road and my own insecurities, I had a hard time just accepting that nothing is really guaranteed.
So, I got married knowing that sometimes it would probably be difficult. For the most part, things have been really awesome and now I feel silly for questioning it in the first place. Haha.

[Sham Rock]

Garcia-Marquez is a literary lion (he's been called the South American Faulkner). I loved that book. Also loved "Leaf Storm," another novella. The quote you cite is instructive and evocative. Like Flaubert, the prose is translated into English from the original French/Spanish. You should read "Madame Bovary" and I think you'll see the metaphorical similarity in style.