Therapy, Puppies, Babies, and Everything Else Going on in My Brain

Yesterday was therapy session number four.

I have noticed that we go off-topic a lot during therapy. I know most of that is probably me. My brain is so damaged—or at least that's what it feels like sometimes—and my ADHD plays a huge part in how my thoughts move from one thing to another.

One minute we're talking about something important, and the next minute I am telling a completely unrelated story.

Yesterday, we did some questions and answers to see if I would be a good fit for EMDR.

One thing we talked about was dissociation.

I dissociate a lot during hard times. My little brain protects me by shutting things off or taking me somewhere else mentally. This has been my life for so long.

I remember trauma, but sometimes I don't remember how I got there or how I got out.

I can't seem to process feelings, and honestly, a lot of the time, I don't want to feel them.

So, it's easier for me not to think about them.

It's easier to become numb.

You would think that would be a good choice. If you don't feel the pain, then maybe it can't hurt you anymore, right?

Except that's not really how it works.

When you don't process your trauma, it eventually shows up somewhere else in your daily life.

For me, sometimes that means outbursts when I simply cannot take anymore.

Sometimes I have to scream into a pillow just to get some of the hurt and anger out.

I don't cry very often because I don't allow myself the time to mourn.

I have too much to do.

There are kids to take care of. A house to clean. Work. Photography. Appointments. Life.

Who has time to sit down and fall apart?

Apparently, that's part of my problem.

One of the questions we talked about was whether I feel worthy of being loved.

Do I believe I am worthy of love?

Do I believe people when they tell me they love me?

No.

And no.

I think that might be one of the reasons I love working with children so much.

Children are innocent.

Children are honest.

And then there is Dallas.

Dallas, our new puppy, loves me.

And I know he does.

When I come home, he jumps up on me and gives me one of his big bear hugs.

When I am having a bad day—or sometimes a bad afternoon—he comes into my room, jumps on my bed, and gives me all the doggy kisses until I finally get up.

When I am editing photos, he comes and lays at my feet.

He loves me.

Maybe that is why having babies was so important to me.

Maybe I loved being needed.

My babies needed me for food, comfort, and love.

But then they grew up.

And as soon as they stopped breastfeeding, Daddy became their favorite.

Because Daddy had so much more to offer.

He was stable.

He could play.

He could have fun.

I didn't really know what playing was.

Honestly, I still don't.

So maybe, in my own strange way, I just kept having another baby.

Until eventually, I couldn't mentally do it anymore.

And once again...

This post has gone completely off-topic.

See?

ADHD.

Or trauma.

Or both.

Who knows at this point?

Next week in therapy, we are going to start mapping.

I'm not exactly sure what we should work on first.

My therapist thinks we need to start with a negative thought that I have about myself and then branch out from there.

Honestly, I have no idea where this journey is going to take me.

But I'm trying.

I will try to write more before next week, but life has become so incredibly busy.

Speaking of life...

Family Update

The kids are back in school and learning.

We have had birthday parties every weekend for the past three weeks, and guess what?

We have another one coming up this weekend.

Because apparently, we don't know how to have a free weekend around here.

Sam is working and driving himself around in the car Zack gave him.

Aubrey is working like crazy.

Zack and Emily—and the baby—are doing great.

Ava is almost finished with school.

Marissa and Zuriel moved in together.

And Anthony and I are flying out to see them next month, and I am so excited!

Zuriel also bought his first house!

Jack just had his 2nd birthday! Devuns App is coming along.

So many exciting things happening with the kids.

We also finally picked out a tree for the front yard.

We decided on a willow tree.

I think they are absolutely beautiful when they are fully grown, and I can already picture taking photos of my growing grandbabies underneath those long, beautiful branches.

We also got approved for Aubrey's apartment in the backyard!

We have spent the entire summer fixing up our backyard and making it into a place we actually enjoy being.

We've spent the summer swimming in the pool and relaxing whenever we could between work and life.

And somehow, summer is already almost over.

The Gym and the Scale That Refuses to Move

I am still going to the gym every morning with my neighbor.

I have gained a ton of muscle, but the scale hasn't changed since that first big loss.

It can be frustrating.

But I keep trying to focus on the positives.

I can run.

I can lift.

And...

I CAN DO PUSH-UPS!

The real ones.

Not the ones from your knees.

Actual push-ups.

That is something I honestly never thought I would be able to do.

I went to the doctor this past week to have some blood work done. I was hoping maybe my hormone levels were off and that was why I seemed to be holding onto the weight.

She told me I should walk every night.

And all I could think was...

Hello?!

I walk or run somewhere between 11,000 and 15,000 steps every single day.

And even more on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays when I run with my two PE classes that I teach.

So yes, Doctor.

I walk.

A LOT.

Apparently, I'm going to have to figure out what else is going on because this body has decided it likes where it's at.

But for now, I am going to keep focusing on what my body can do instead of obsessing over what the scale says.

I am stronger than I was last year.

I can run.

I can lift.

I can do real push-ups.

And maybe that's worth celebrating, even if the number on the scale refuses to cooperate.

So that's life lately.

Therapy.

Trauma.

EMDR.

ADHD thoughts going in seventeen different directions.

Puppies.

Babies.

Grandbabies.

Birthday parties.

A backyard apartment.

A willow tree.

The gym.

And approximately 15,000 steps a day.

And somehow, I'm supposed to find time to relax somewhere in between all of that.

But maybe that's part of what I'm learning in therapy too.

Maybe I don't have to have everything figured out right now.

Maybe healing doesn't mean becoming a completely different person.

Maybe it means learning how to understand the person I've always been—and finally giving her a little grace along the way.