I went to my first counselor appointment today. And let me just say, the need to write all this out is stronger than I’ve ever experienced. I knew that the first appointment would be to gather a glimpse at some of my history, figure out where I am at and come up with a plan for treatment moving forward. The appointment was supposed to last 45 minutes. It went for a full hour and a half. You know when a counselor exclaims “Wow you have such a rich history”… it must mean you are really screwed up. LOL. I don’t think I’ve ever had to throw it all out there like that in a timeline. It was a bit of a shock to my system when I did and realized just how much I have been through, how much there was to screw me up. No wonder I don’t feel my age.
Age 17 – hospitalized for depression
Age 19 – Got married to highschool sweetheart
Age 20 – Had a baby/ Experienced physical and emotional abuse first hand
Age 20 – Got divorced – Very messy, very scary time of my life full of restraining orders and such
Age 21 – Met a man with a son a little older than my own child
Age 22 – Got married / returned to school
Age 23 – Started my business
Age 24 – Diagnosed with major health issue – caused myself harm due to depression
Age 26 – Started working corporate
Age 27 – Got pregnant with Ben – had ben – lost ben/ watched family break apart
Age 28 – Started working for Microsoft/Pregnant with my little one/Miracle baby!
Age 29 – surgery to make it extremely unlikely to have more children
Age 30 – Divorce
Age 31 – Back to the world of dating (Ew)
Age 32 – Facing a potential miscarriage
Yup. You read that last one right. My chances were less than 3% to get pregnant again. And here I sit, grieving for another little one… or at least what was the potential of a little one. I feel like this one – it’s all my fault. I got so stressed out this week. Had I just found a way to settle and stay calm perhaps the results would not be this way? I know that everything happens for a reason… I know that now was just not when I’d planned on getting pregnant – hell I never planned on getting pregnant again. But what I didn’t know – was how much I wanted it, until “There is no heartbeat, I’m sorry.” came out of the doctor’s mouth. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. I’m still reeling. And now, I’m just waiting. Waiting for my body to realize what’s happened and catch up. I’m shaken up. I’m scared. Scared to lose T. But I think more than anything else. I’m scared to lose ME. I’ve done so well in the last few years. Worked through so much. Seeing a counselor was long overdue. But seeing her also made me see just how screwed up my life has been. It made me realize just how scared I am. How well I do at putting on my masks and posturing around how strong I am. I’m not strong… I’m just too prideful to let anyone see me break, even myself. I’m scared that everyone and everything I love will leave or walk away or be taken away. I feel like I don’t deserve to be loved… that loving me would somehow cause others to be burdened by me. Oy. What a thing to realize. What a thing to try and overcome. But damn it… that’s my goal. I’m going to beat this. This low self esteem bull shit. I’m going to prove to myself that I am worthy. Ok, fine, i’m young. I’ve had it hard. But so have a LOT of people. I’m not special. I’m simply human. And it means we keep swimming. Even when we forget how to breathe. I WILL conquer this. Why? Because I can. Because I believe in my ability to learn and grow. Because I want it that badly.
Thank god for stubbornness.