Goodbye Therapy!

I am officially released from therapy.  I have sat across from this woman for 3.5 years and struggled.  She took me from a scared, traumatized momma who ran from her kids to a proud, strong momma who doesn't want to let her boys go.  After Graham's accident, I was an intense mess of a person.  I made poor decisions.  I didn't want to be alone with my kids.  I self-medicated and sought temporary relief in sketchy things.  I had nightmares.  I had flashbacks.  I jumped at the slightest noise.  I cried just as easily.  It was a hard time, but because I had a woman who specialized in trauma therapy cheering me on, I had hope.

The changes were subtle.  And mostly invisible to others.  I gained knowledge on how to calm my brain down when I was triggered.  I practiced relaxing in the middle of stressful situations.  I picked exercises that permitted me to strengthen my body without stressing my mind.  I journal almost daily, and the woman who wrote entries 3.5 years ago is a shadow of who I am now.

What is cool and supremely scary about life is that changes happen subtly.  They come with small decisions that you make throughout your day.  In five second intervals.  You decide to forgo the second cup of coffee and drink water instead.  You turn the TV off to read a book.  You pick music to work out to that is more intelligent and less chaotic.  You light a candle.  Put bubbles in your bath.  Take deep breaths when you're upset.  Wade through painful emotions without pouring a glass of wine.  Cook brussel sprouts instead of pizza.  You finish the laundry before your kids get home.  You actually pay attention in church and put your mental to-do list on hold.

1,277 days in 3.5 years.
1,277,000 small decisions.

I didn't get it right all the time.  But I got it right enough times to help me overcome my demons.

And yes, I go to bed fighting them and will wake up again tomorrow looking the same ones in the face.

But this time, I'll know what it is I'm staring at.