If I could sum up the last two years I’ve spent seeing my (amazing) therapist, it would be with this sentence. At least every other session, she reminds me of this little mantra. We’ve discussed it in length. In theory, it seems pretty simple: Send what you want out into the universe as opposed to waiting for the other shoe to drop, and ye shall receive. Very The Secret-esque, which is a book I’ve read and really loved. If you haven’t read it, I highly suggest it. It’s all about the power of positive thinking helping manifest your thoughts into realities.
But repeating that mantra and actually having it be a calming force that centers you back to reality isn’t so straightforward when you’re a person plagued by constant guilt you can’t put into logic. While I understand (and have experienced firsthand) the fact that it’s important to take care of yourself so you can be the best version of yourself for others, it is so hard to put into practice. For every dollar I spend on something for myself or hour I spend playing a video game, reading a book, watching a movie, etc., I feel like I can be spending it on helping others or at the very least learning something new that I can apply to something constructive, as opposed to texting my friend after binge-watching Keeping Up with the Kardashians and being like, “Oh God, I finally got to the episode where Kris tells Kim not to take selfies in the car because they’re on their way to see Khloé in jail.” (Next checkpoint: the Todd Kraines prank call episode. I still don’t even know who Todd Kraines is.)
Guilt is my constant emotion that I can always count on, and it’s rough. The last time I can remember truly taking care of myself was when Ricky and I broke up in 2010 and Josh wasn’t ready to commit and I was floating along trying to distract myself from the thing I wanted. I felt like, because I was so hurt inside, that I was allowed to put myself first because no one else was going to. I lost some weight, started running, ran a freaking half marathon and felt like a million bucks. Now, I am experiencing pain that is much different but still as intense with all this infertility shit, so why can’t I do the same thing? Is it because Josh is here to support me? If I felt more alone, would that make me more apt to care for myself again or would I spiral down into a black hole this time? I don’t want to find out but sometimes I wonder what has to give for me to feel like it’s OK to breathe.
Speaking of. A couple sessions ago, once Josh and I had made the decision to charge deliberately forward with IVF, my therapist said, “You’re breathing more, I’m noticing.” I was like huh? She meant literally what she said, that I wasn’t holding my breath for such prolonged periods of time and that I was speaking more slowly and deliberately, and taking breaths like a normal human. It’s something I notice at the most random times, like in the shower. I’ll realize I haven’t had a good inhale or exhale in too long and scramble to fill my lungs again. The breathing exercises are the one thing I love about yoga. I just wish my wrists weren’t so weak.
I mean, I wish my wrists were stronger. “Ask for what you want.” I’m trying.