Honest

it’s not about the breakthrough

I’m starting therapy again this week.

Well, actually I am going to therapy consult, but I’ve filled out the longest intake form of my life and made an appointment and it’s on my calendar.

And I keep forgetting and then I remember and my whole body tenses and I get anxious and I already feel one hundred percent exposed even though I’m not even in the therapist office yet.

I went to therapy from the beginning of 2009 to when I moved away from Orange County before the world race. I went to therapy when I was at my most exhausted, most depressed and with the least ability to take care of myself. I was on antidepressants and had moments of suicidal thoughts and didn’t want to sleep because I didn’t want to wake up and have to do it again.

I would walk into my therapist small windowless office and sit on the corner of the couch and put a pillow in my lap and be anxious for the first 15 minutes out of our 50 minute session.

That was the same for every single session that I saw him. Sitting in the small windowless room I was safe, but the prospect of combing through the areas of my life that were dark and hard and sad stressed me out.

I’m starting therapy again this week but I am so different from the first time I went to therapy 10 years ago. I’ve discovered so much more about myself and how I work and what I need and I’ve gone places and had hard conversation and sat in rooms filled with anxiety but still manage to function through it.

Therapy did wonders for me ten years ago. It allowed me to open my eyes to myself and see what I needed to do and allowed me to learn how to SIT in my anxiety and feel it.

But, I’m not looking for breakthrough.

I had this realization today that my actual breakthrough is for everyone around me to physically see it on my face and in my decisions but the breakthrough isn’t as important to me. What is important is the novel of experiences and stories and decisions that gets me to the point of outward breakthrough. What is important to me is the heartache and the fear and the ability to knock down walls inside and unpack boxes and throw them in the cardboard crusher.

I decided today that I’m not going to place my hope in the fact that I can get to the next, and that something is coming.

I am going to place my hope in my ability to figure it out.

I’m going to place my hope in my ability to sit with anxiety and fear until it all untangles.
I know it’s all in verbiage. I know that you may hope for breakthrough and to you that means every little thing along the way.

But, I say all this so you remember that when someone HAS a “breakthrough” and it feels like its out of left field, or they make a decision or are suddenly in a relationship that there is more than just the breakthrough.

There’s the anxiety and the fear and all the other damn things that lead to the fireworks.

So, maybe stop praying for breakthrough.
Stop speaking breakthrough into others lives.
Start speaking the untangle.
Start speaking the very next step instead of the horizon.
Offer a shoulder so someone can climb over their walls.
Give a cozy chair to sit in discomfort.

And (pardon the following expletive)
Remind them to keep fucking going.

Because whatever word you wanted to use for it: you can’t have breakthrough or untangling if you don’t keep moving down a path.

I am a person who struggles with anxiety and depression. My brain doesn’t always treat me nicely. I don’t always treat myself nicely.
And while I do pause to look at the horizon, into the hopes and loveliness of the what’s next. I’m still going to dream and find beauty.

I am going to start facing down more walls and giants and unpacking more boxes than I was before.
So, when I hit that place, when I hit the next, when I make decisions that feel rushed and out of the blue I want you to remember that breakthrough is the end of one story and the beginning of another.

Breakthrough is one moment on the timeline-not THE timeline.
Breakthrough is not the answer.
The answer is in the untangle, and the mess.

Breakthrough is in the keeping fucking going.

Honest, ramblings, washington whimsy

On Sundays, I write.

My couch is currently covered in clean laundry. My bedroom floor could use a vacuuming and there are a few dishes in the sink. I’m going to a party in an hour- I should be straightening my hair or doing my makeup.But, instead, I’m sitting here with a cup of coffee and my fingers to a keyboard. 

Because, on Sundays, I write. I write whether I feel like or not, whether I have hours and hours or just a few minutes in between activities. I write in preparation of a week to come or maybe just still in a cleansing of the week that came before. 

I write because it is in my writing that I find breakthrough inside myself.

This morning at church we actively stepped into breakthrough. We chose to believe it was there for us. We chose to believe it already has come.

I struggled with that a little.

As my boss Jamie and multiple other people in my life has said to me: I am too hard myself.

But isn’t everyone?

I lack grace for myself and I hold myself to a higher standard- a higher level. 

I have chosen to treat others how I want to be treated, regardless of whether or not I am treated back the same.

So, when it comes to breakthrough, I assume it’s for someone else. Not to belittle myself, or to be falsely humble, but because I want it to be for someone else. I want someone else to grab the thing that I have previously grabbed. 

When breakthrough comes to me I meet it gingerly at the door. I am unsure of it. I am wary of it. Not because I don’t want it, but because it seems foreign. 

I know I have had breakthrough in my life. It is so evident. I can see it across the walls and interwoven into the story of my life. 

I am realizing that I have been taught, whether through life examples or the people around me that breakthrough must be painful. 

I probably had so many small breakthroughs in my four years of therapy, I probably overcame more on the world race or in Spain then I can comprehend, but it’s the nitty gritty moments that have defined breakthrough for me. It’s the ones that came with pain and heartache and tears. It’s the storms that ended with a rainbow. 

But sometimes there are rainbows and good things without storms. Breakthrough doesn’t have to come through massive construction of the heart. 

Breakthrough can be a peaceful wind.

I think I forgot that more often then not. I think I end up waiting on the edge of my seat for something to come, when all it takes, for me, is writing a few words to realize that it did indeed happen.

So now, I’ve come full circle to say that this is why I write.

I write to pull he thoughts out of my head onto paper. I write to hopefully, start a conversation. I write to encourage you, to let you know that you aren’t alone.

Because you aren’t. 

Whether you realize it or not. Something in you is doing the damn thing. 

You are it.

So be it.