Hi, I’m Geochick.

Welcome to my blog. What started out as a private blog to document our adoption journey has evolved into my journey through therapy and spiritual awakening. Without our struggles to build a family, I’m not sure I’d be waking up, and for that I’m grateful.

Ahhhh Therapy....

Therapy is turning to be like taking a nice long cleansing bath.  It doesn't really feel good during, but after the dust settles, I feel a little freer.

I have a hypervigilant self-awareness apparently, as indicated by some of the comments from Therapist.  For example, I know that, say around day 21-22 of my cycle, I'm going to be the biggest bitch in the city, yet sometimes I can't control it.  (Therapist suggested acupuncture now that my cycles have returned to "normal' i.e. no regular acupuncture, bcps or other monkeying, and I appear to have some hormone issues going down).  We haven't gotten to the "mommy issues" as she calls them, but I seem to be circling the drain.  At one session, I was already to dive into the complexities of my family and upbringing, but ended up re-living infertility-land again.  And, as it turns out, this whole notion of a biological baby, and not being able to raise a little mini-me still stings, and can make me cry.  Blech.  Not that I felt like I was over it completely, I just thought I could talk about it without getting choked up.  Not so much.  But then again, I had just spent 45 minutes chronicling our infertility journey, bringing up all those crappy feelings again.  There were a couple of  things that were brought up that made me surprised.

1.  I couldn't remember the name of our R.E.  It hasn't been that long, but it's almost like I've cut ties completely with the fertility treatment journey.  All I could remember was the hospital she was tied to and the fact that I didn't like her.  Therapist knew who I was talking about by mentioning location, and I found it so weird, that I couldn't pull the name from my brain until someone else said it.  As far as not liking her, I have a feeling I wouldn't like any R.E. I worked with.  I don't think they are too worried about bedside manner.  Oh, and when I was talking about the What If part, what if we had gone further, at least a couple more IUIs or something like that, that I am definitely past that.  I don't really think about that the way I did before Baby X got here.

2.  I couldn't remember the exact chronology of the infertility journey.  When Therapist asked me if I could point out where in the infertility journey I started to get depressed, it took a little bit of thinking hard back to kind of hit it.  Of course, I could be wrong, and really I was depressed before the situation that I remember as being the first time something happened that made me angry (my emotion is definitely more anger than sadness) occurred.  Still, I really had to think hard about the order in which everything went down.  Things that you think will forever be seared into your brain.

At another session we finally hit some of why I react the way I do to situations (see previous post).  There's something about parents who think they are guiding their children to be successful through life, but who in the process put them into a little box.  In my little box, straight A's were the gateway to self-worth.  Why?  Well, if I didn't get good grades, then I got in trouble.  Big trouble.  C's were failing in my parent's minds.  I took that to mean that if I didn't get straight A's, then my parents wouldn't love me.  Yeah, twisted.  (and in college, my little rebellious phase was to gather some D's and C's along the way to graduation.  However, my mother pointed out when my brother graduated this year, that out of all her children, he's the only one who graduated college with above a 3.0 GPA.)  Anyway, I guess I apply that theory to all relationships in my life, and constantly feel like I'm not good enough if a relationship fails.  It's really difficult for me to look at the situation and think "I've done everything I can, I've been nice, extended the olive branch, and she/he has rejected it.  It's not me, it's them."  I'm working on it though.  At least I got through my own party without one nugget of information ruining my night.

That's not how I want to raise my children, and I find that I have great fear that if I'm not careful, it's exactly what I will do.  And so, I go to therapy.


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