Preparing for the chair

Every week, when I walk into my therapists office she says, "how are you?"  I think it is probably the funniest thing she could possibly say.... First of all, why don't you tell me?  And secondly, if I was great, would I be spending my afternoon with you?

Now, I'm not suffering from a serious depression, I don't have bipolar decease, nobody beat or sexually abused me. My heart goes out to anyone in an actually tough situation. I had a privileged childhood.  The closest comparison I could offer would be when Betty Draper goes to a therapist season 1 of Mad Men; I have simple case of fear of failure mixed with a long history of falling on my face professionally.

My new thing is picking fights with my husband.  I don't know why I do it, but our house is like a pressure cooker.  I work from home, and he quit his job in January to become a professional student.  (It is a decision we made together)  some days our house is like a steal cage match --only one of use will exit alive.  Our pitbull, Jane and our sheepdog, Bear seem like the sane ones.

Some days are like my husband and I are having a contest, who can hang themselves on the cross longer, trying to prove to each other, "I'm working just as hard as you are." So we bitch and bicker with each other every day. Thank good most of our fights end up with us laughing or we'd be in big trouble.

Every week, as I prepare for the chair, I think.... "what I'm I going to talk about today?"  "maybe I should stop going to therapy....." "Maybe if I can find the source that feeds the vein of dissatisfaction that runs thru my body, I'll be able to feel rest and happiness, rather than exhaustion and frustration."

This week as I prepare for the chair, I'm beginning to think.....    I'd like to know her dirt.  she sits there, so quietly asking if my feelings relate to childhood.  The only thing I know about her is she is obsessed with Yoga.  There is no way she isn't as crazy as the rest of us...........  stay tuned.