A Mustard Seed

Diving into therapy was a life saving opportunity. I enjoyed having someone that felt like a personal advocate to talk to every week and needed the calm, positive attitude he exhibited. I needed it so that I could find hope in my own ability to transcend above the pain I was feeling. But I was also unsure of what "therapy" was all about. It didn't take long for me to learn that it was simply talking. It was easier than I thought to sit in a room with someone and tell the stories of my life. It was not only easy, it was a relief. In telling the story to someone who wanted to invest in me, to understand me, was one of the most powerful steps in healing and I quickly grew to look forward to our visits.

While we started with a focus on me, it quickly shifted to working on the relationship between my husband and me because it was so volatile. My husband agreed to come to some sessions to help "fix" me. During the first session, the conversation shifted from all of my issues to looking at my husband. He was not comfortable with this attention at all and it soon turned combative. Within a few minutes, he walked out of the session and I followed him without hesitation. On the ride home and the days following, my husband decided that the therapist we were seeing was not qualified to manage my situation and demanded I find another one. I called and requested a move to a new therapist.

I ask myself today, why would I do that? Why would I allow my husbands dissatisfaction to override my feelings of safety and relief to finally have someone on my side? It's easy. Because his happiness, his satisfaction was the most important thing. If he didn't allow me to continue in therapy, I'd be alone again. If he didn't go to therapy, how would we improve our relationship? If he wasn't...

In my world view to that point, making sure the men in charge were "happy" or "satisfied" was the first priority of a woman. After all, they held the strings to our lives. They had the power. I understand this might seem like a scenario from the 1950's and it was the 1980's, but in my world, it was still the reality. I believed him when he said "if you would be different, we would be happy". I believed that all the issues in our relationship were basically my fault. In my world view at the time, the people with "emotional problems" were the problems in society. We were the ones that were less than. We were the ones that caused poverty, crime, homelessness, addiction, anguish, sadness. The people that had their lives together were the "good, upstanding citizens" that I longed to be. So when he told me that I was the problem, I completely agreed. And in the brief moments that I fought that idea, I still held the belief that if I could become one of the "good, upstanding citizens" then I could solve the problems plaquing our lives. It was the dream I held for my boys, to create the "good, upstanding family" and life for them. The picture painted in the 1950's sitcoms of what we should look like. And in that 1950's world view, women were to serve their husbands. It was my job. In addition to that view was the view I developed because it was what had been modeled for me. Making sure dad didn't get mad was at the heart of all our activities growing up. If dad got mad, someone got hurt. So making sure things were to his liking, was our jobs. It was instinctual and it was imperative to my survival and to my mother's.

I said good bye to the first therapist and started the process again with another therapist. Another man, as that was what was available to me. He was kind as well, but he had a tougher vibe and I hoped it would match my husband's expectations more than the previous therapist. I completed several appointments alone, and then it became time to include my husband. He again agreed to attend and I was grateful he was still willing to go. During that first combined visit, it went as it had previously. As long as we were looking at my shortcomings, everything was fine. But the minute the conversation switched to my husband, the tension came quickly. With the smallest amount of push back, he was out the door and I was right behind him. In my next appointment, which I attended alone, the therapist worked with me to understand that I didn't need to follow my husband out the door, that I could stay in the appointment. But I was scared. Scared of what the consequences of me sitting while he was clearly upset would turn out to be. How could I just sit there? He would be furious with me! What if he left me there? How would I get home? What if he... He walked me through all the scenarios and then guided me through some additional thoughts. How would I ever be able to be heard, if I always reacted in that manner, when my husband reacted that way? He wanted to teach me how to manage things differently, to create a different outcome and I was ready to learn. I was still afraid, but willing to try what he suggested.

Our joint session came, the cycle repeated itself and out the door he went. I looked at the therapist, he looked at me and I sat in my chair and watched him leave. My heart was pounding in my chest, thoughts raced in my mind, but I kept my butt in that chair and held onto the trust I was placing in the man I believed could help me, but I was petrified. My husband didn't leave me, he stayed in the car. Eventually, I couldn't sit any longer and I left the appointment a bit earlier than scheduled, but felt a tiny bit of empowerment rising up within me. I had held my ground and I hadn't been beaten. I had held my ground and although he was angry, my worst fears had not come true and we all lived to see another day. That little feeling inside me was something I liked and I wanted to learn more about it. How did I get more of that? What other tools could I learn? And could we all be safe in the journey?

This picture was taken at my oldest son's baptism. It represents the time where I found myself fighting to find the way forward. I adored my family and wanted so badly for us to remain whole, in tact. Those beautiful boys' smiles light up my heart still today and it shows their unique personalities.

Fashion note: Do any of you remember "Units"? That's what I have on!

I loved therapy, but I also felt ashamed. I loved the feeling I would leave each session with but also felt guilty for needing to take time and money away from my family. New ideas were being introduced to me, but old belief patterns held strong. I could see a weekly cycle in my emotional state. I'd go to a session with my therapist, get a booster of hope, understanding and some strength and bring it all home with me ready to employ all I was learning. Then day by day it would be whittled away and my self doubt, fear and brokenness would take the reigns once again. My ability to hold steady lasted only a few hours and I wondered if I would ever find the strength to stay centered in those other feelings that seemed to only be available in small doses. Once my therapist explained to me how changes can happen in our lives. At first, we will remember something we have learned after the situation has passed. Then we will see it while we are in the situation and then before the situation. Eventually, we will notice that the old behavior is gone from our lives and while I believed him, I wasn't sure how long it would take me to get to the last step, the gone part. It has come to me, but it was as he described, step by step and not without frustration at the time it took.

I continued on with therapy on my own. We focused on my relationship with my husband, as it was always at the forefront of my mind and it is what I chose to discuss. The therapist was always bringing in my childhood and over time, I discovered how the two things were related. The years spent in therapy set the foundation for many of understandings I live with today. I've learned many new things over the years, but I'm so grateful for the efforts of those sessions, both from my therapist, but also from me. I took the time and the energy to learn new things, to face hard things, to embrace foreign concepts and to ultimately choose healing. Over the next few years, I would grow that seed of empowerment, a little bit at a time. The relationship with my husband was not getting better, in fact, it continued to escalate. The arguments were growing in intensity. I'm not sure if they were growing because I was getting braver or because he was getting tired or what, but the relationship wasn't growing in the positive direction. While I wanted so desperately to have a "nuclear" family, I was starting to think the cost was too high and wasn't sure what to do with that thought. It would come up every now and again, then I'd push it down and go to work trying to find a way to be in my marriage and be happy. I wanted it for me as much as I wanted it for my sons.

After years of sessions with the same therapist, I received a letter from him informing me that he was going to move to a new city, in a hospital setting. It was kind and provided transition options for me so that I could continue the work we were doing. I sobbed for several hours as I had come to rely on the sessions to strengthen me and keep me from wavering off the path I had set myself upon. We had 1 last session and I didn't schedule with anyone else. I was too sad from losing his support to start again with someone new. I was on my own, but maybe I was strong enough to manage it with the tools I had gained from our time together.

Luckily, other tools and opportunities to learn would enter my life. I would continue my education and growth and that small mustard seed he had planted would continue to grow. I was on a new path, and I was forever grateful. As I look back, I can see the growth. During those years in my 20's, it was hard to see it as it was so slight. But the growth was there and I know that it only takes a tiny bit of hope and faith to move us forward.