It's Not a Silver Lining - It's a Revolution

I have an acupuncturist that doubles as a therapist.  Let me explain.  

Her appointments are approximately 90 minutes.  For the first 45 minutes, you talk to her.  Like a therapist.  For the second 45 minutes, you lie on a bed with needles all over your body, the location of which I presume is based on your conversation with her.  I'm not sure, because I've never asked.  

One of my closest friends had been seeing her for years, and had been trying to convince me to go, but I was hesitant.  I've done therapy, and I wasn't particularly in need of more at the time (little did I know).  And I'd much rather get a massage than lie on a bed with needles in me for 45+ minutes. To me, that just sounded boring.  

But it was one of my 2020 resolutions to try new things, and so I made an appointment.  The appointments take place in her home, in one of two rooms she has set up with two chairs, and then the bed for the acupuncture.  The first session was standard and not particularly noteworthy.  The first 45 minute "talk" session was slightly awkward, and I wasn't quite sure what I was supposed to talk to her about.  I gave her a general overview of my life history, and when she asked why I was there, I was stumped.  I actually wasn't sure why I was there, or what it is I wanted to get out the whole thing.  I think I muttered something unauthentic and generic like "anxiety" and "trouble sleeping."  Which doesn't make me all that different than the rest of the population.  

She put the needles in and I laid there for 45 minutes and that was it.  I went on with my day.  And then something weird happened.  

I started getting anxious.  Super anxious.  And I hadn't even been anxious prior to the appointment! I had just said "anxiety" as a BS answer that seemed explanatory enough for why I showed up at this woman's home for therapy and acupuncture.  And over the next few days, it got worse.  This general feeling of unease and disorientation as to what the fuck was happening to me.  I would start crying at odd times.  My heart would start racing which was only exacerbated by the heart monitor on my Apple watch, which would actually provide evidence that it was doing just that.  And in a cruel twist of fate, I started having trouble sleeping.  Go figure.

By the time I ended up back in her home the following week for my second treatment, I was a blubbering mess.  A crying, blubbering mess.  The kind of cry where you are crying so hard you have to cover up your face with your hands because you're embarrassed about the ugly contortions your face is making.  

She didn't seem surprised.  Instead, she seemed pleased, and said something like:  This means the treatments are working.  Your heart is starting to open.  This is part of the process.  

I didn't take solace in that, and I couldn't even pinpoint what it was I was sobbing hysterically about. But in retrospect, I think I was just really scared.  Because something was shifting, or at least beginning to shift.  

She gave me a tissue to hold while I went through the second part of the session, the lying with the needles.  And I needed the tissue.  I cried for 45 minutes straight, by myself, on the heated table on the second floor of this stranger's home.  It sounds strange, but it was this weird, poignant moment. And it felt good.  Being in a room, by myself, lying down, and just letting the tears fall.  Even if I didn't know what they were about.  

After that I felt lighter.  Better.  Hopeful. The anxiety symptoms went away abruptly (though they would eventually return, intermittently).  I just felt at peace.  

This was in January, and I have gone back every week since.  

I don't know what it is this woman does, but it's something that taps into something deep.  I've had various groundbreaking revelations in my talks with her - more so than I've ever had with any therapist.  I'm not going to go into detail about those revelations at the moment, because I'm still processing them myself.  But suffice it to say that I always feel good after my appointments with her - ALWAYS. 

I think she came into my life at the exact perfect time.  I was ready.  

She isn't doing sessions at her house anymore, for obvious reasons coronavirus related.  And when the world basically shut down, not being able to see her was one of my biggest sources of sadness and disappointment.  I mean, how can you do acupuncture virtually?  

You can't, but you can talk virtually.  And since that was half of our time together anyway, I jumped at the chance to continue working with her doing phone appointments.  My first one was today.  

Suffice it to say, I feel lighter.  Better.  Hopeful.  

I was discussing with her some of the silver linings of this whole mess.  The fact that I'm spending more time outside.  That we are doing more family dinners together.  That I'm face timing people I haven't spoken to in years.  That I'm texting less and talking on the phone more.  That I'm feeling gratitude for small things - for pizza delivery and outdoor workouts and good music and the fact that my kids still like to cuddle with me.  That yesterday, while driving home from an outdoor workout, I had an overwhelming urge to write on this blog again and did just that.  

She listened to me for a while, and then she said:  It's not a silver lining - it's a revolution.  

What an absolutely perfect thing to say.  And how true.  

I truly believe that the ramifications of this weird world we are living in - this scary reality - will be long lasting.  And maybe they will be good ones.  Having your world turned upside down, and having everyone you know have a similar experience, changes you, and will change the way we operate.  Why do I text friends instead of talking on the phone?  Why don't I always schedule a couple of hours a day to enjoy the fresh air?  Why am I so afraid to reach out to people I haven't talked to in a while?  Why don't we do more family movie nights?  Why didn't I ever hike the Billy Goat trail, when it's only a couple of miles from my house?  Why don't we always eat dinner on our back deck, just the five of us, when it's nice out?  Why did I find the idea of spending just one entire day at home, without leaving, such an awful prospect? 

I, like many of us, have largely been "fed from the outside" (her words) in order to find contentment and satisfaction.  I thrived on being busy.  On going out.  On being out.  On consuming.  What do we do when that outside has been taken away? 

That is all of our challenge, I think.  And it truly is a revolution.  

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A Few Firsts

1) My first time taking a weekend vacation with my husband in a long, long, long time.  Definitely the first time since I've been a mom of 3.  I have been counting down the days until this weekend getaway to Miami, but yet, as I nursed my baby this morning before I left, I got tears in my eyes. What is with motherhood?  How is it that you can want a break so bad, but then when said break arrives, you are heartbroken to leave?  (Don't worry, I left anyway.)

2) My first time blogging from a flight.  Did you know that you can get wi-fi on a plane now?  Is it weird that I find solace in this, because then should the plane go down, I could live blog about it? And write out my last words?  (Yes, this is morbid.  Yes, I have a major irrational fear of flying. No, I did not have a drink or take any xanax.  Yet.)

3) My first post for the Netflix Stream Team.  As a blogger, I get a bunch of random emails to promote things, review products, etc.  Most of it is junk.  But when I got an email to promote Netflix (and it actually turned out to be legit) I jumped at it!  Why?  Because I am a Netflix junkie. And because, in the interest of full disclosure, I get a free year subscription to Netflix as well as a nifty I-pad mini to stream shows.

I discovered Netflix about two years ago.  It's an on demand streaming system whereby you can watch thousands of movies and shows (for the reasonable price of about $9/month).  At first, it took over my life. I put my books back on the shelf in favor of all 5 seasons of Breaking Bad, all available seasons of Mad Men, all available seasons of the Walking Dead, both seasons of Orange is the New Black, both seasons of House of Cards, and then countless documentaries and movies. It became my guilty pleasure - as soon as I put the kids to bed, I would retreat to my bed, get comfortable, and log in.  There was always something good to watch. I did go a bit overboard, sometimes staying up until 2 am watching something, or watching Blackfish, that Sea World documentary, with a bottle of champagne on New Years Eve.  (Very sad, infuriating documentary, and not really New Years Eve festive.  Don't go to Sea World!).

My kids have loved Netflix too, and unsurprisingly, can navigate it on the iPad better than I can. They love to watch back to back episodes of Handy Mandy and that asshole Caillou.  Of course, I do try and limit their screen time, but it is great to have in a pinch (for long car rides or doctor waiting rooms or any afternoon I just can't deal anymore).

The only problem with Netflix is it can be overwhelming.  There are SO. MANY. CHOICES.  So what I'll aim to do each month is give suggestions of what to watch.  For this month's post, see above.  You much watch all of those series before you move on to other things (seriously, they are all so good.  But if you have to prioritize, do Breaking Bad first).

I should touch down in Miami in about an hour or so.  Forecast is for rain - lots of rain.  But I honestly don't care.  Give me a hotel room and a bath and my Netflix and I will be happy as a clam.

Any suggestions on what to watch?

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Keep Thine Head Down

My last ultrasound was at 24 weeks pregnant (about six weeks ago).  At that time, my wee one was sitting pretty in the transverse position - head at my right side, feet at my left side.  NOT the prime, head down, ready to birth position.  I didn't think much of it at the time.  But as the weeks have gone by, and I have continued to feel the kicks at my left side, and a big hard ball at my right side, I have started to get a little concerned.  Is this baby going to be breech?

Here ye, here ye, I will not have a c-section (the method of delivery for a breech baby).  I simply WILL NOT.

It's not that I'm so against a c-section in theory.  It's just that I've already had two pregnancies, with two head down babies, with two uncomplicated vaginal births.  I know what it's like to go through that kind of pain, and to mess up things down there.  I am prepared, yet again to go through pain and mess up things down there.  

I shouldn't be going through new things this pregnancy.  This pregnancy should be straightforward and standard.  The three hour gestational diabetes test was change enough.  No c-sections. No complications.  No thank you.

Riding the Zoloft Roller Coaster

I love zoloft.

I really do.  It has saved me numerous times.  Every time I think it won't.  I think, what the hell can a pill do for me?  I start taking it and I still don't believe.  But then....

Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.  So this is what it feels like to be normal.

I have been taking it on and off since my early twenties.  In the beginning, once I started feeling "normal,"  I would think, See, I'm fine!  I don't need to be on medication!  

Then I would go off of it, and I would be fine for a while.  Until I wasn't again.  And so began yet another cycle of anxiety... feeling fine, feeling anxious, feeling too anxious to go on medication, finally going on medication, feeling fine again, going off the medication etc.    The cycles can go for months, or years.  But the bottom line is, after a decade or so, I have been humbled (a postpartum episode will do that to you).  Can I live without it?  Yes.  Is life a bit more enjoyable while I'm on it.  YES.

A Personal Therapy History (And why I want to invite my therapist over for dinner)

You'd think that because both of my parents are therapists that I always would have been open to the idea of going to therapy.  But I wasn't. 

It wasn't that I was against it per se, it was just that I saw it as an emergency measure.  I went to my first therapist when I was in law school.  I was having random panic attacks in the middle of class for no apparent reason.  Nothing I would ever let on to anyone else, but that feeling of your face going white, your heart racing, and the walls caving in - standard anxiety stuff.  After a few weeks of this I ended up in some twenty-something's office at student health begging for xanax.  Instead, she recommended some SSRI's and weekly therapy sessions.  I never took the pills, and I never went back. 

Fast forward three years and I found myself in another therapist's office on the twentieth floor of a high rise in Central Park West.  I was working at Skadden at the time, and was in such a state of flux that by 10am I was on the phone searching for someone, anyone, who would see me that day - the sooner the better.  By 2pm I was in this random therapist's office crying about how stressed I was and how I just couldn't finish this brief - I just couldn't.  I still remember his words:  "Fuck the brief."  But I didn't.  I went back to work and finished it.  It was my 28th birthday.  I never went back to him again. 

Fog Lifting

I have been feeling oddly happy lately. 

Not that I don't have reasons to be happy - I have countless reasons.  But I have also had some reasons to be sad.  And angry.  And then add in an emotional breakdown and an acute anxiety episode and I've been hanging on by a thread a lot of the time. 

But for the past few weeks, I've just been calm. 

In early July my insomnia came back with a vengeance and I have been back on sleeping pills ever since.  I HATE this.  I HATE taking a pill to go to sleep.  I have accepted having to take other medications in my life, but these sleeping pills just make me angry.  The ones I take aren't technically "addicting," but for me, I think they are mentally addicting because I start to feel like I can't sleep without them.  So each night becomes a challenge - can I do it?  Which inevitably means no, I can't, because when you think about sleep, it doesn't come.