therapy

Life has been pushing in hard.  

This morning the door bell rang, when Rosie's carpool arrived.  She was eating, shoeless and not ready.  I sent her to school with pink shoes (not allowed) and no jacket (and it was in the 30s).  I came home and Augie had peed in his car seat (and all over his 2nd set of clothes for the day) and Catie had pooped out of her diaper and all over her clothes...

I was starting to think about if I need to ask the doc to up my meds to handle the stress.  I have been walking around chanting "i hate....".  I have been calling my kids "you people" and saying words to them that I would not allow them to say to another person.  

....so, this afternoon my children are hungry, tired and 2/3 naked, and it dawns on me, I have a therapy appointment in 5 minutes!!!  

Luckily Mac& Cheese goes down fast, I got the little ones in bed and the big one set up with a movie, grabbed a cup of tea...and logged on to skype. 

And, it was the most incredible blessing and gift to myself.  It was God stepping in to say "I am here in the midst of this."  And I can't explain how the grace flowed.  

The idea of therapy was something that I have long declared that I would never need and certainly I would NEVER go. 

And here I am.  And the bill is big.  But the words are powerful.  In my very limited experience with my therapist, I am starting to gain some very important insights. 

Pride & Self Love. 

My therapist made a joke that unfortunately insurance companies won't accept that as a diagnosis.  

This thing, this monster is big.  My anger feeds it.  Humility, recognizing failure, recognizing it is about Him and not me kills it.  This monster is inside me but it is not me.  

I am so grateful for someone who speaks my language and calls me to a purifying holiness.  It is not about feeling good.  It is about feeling bad at the recognition of my sinfulness and letting God take it from there.  It is about Him increasing and me decreasing.  

Let the work begin.