Caution Ahead!

Today I had my second counselling session with my therapist Brittany.  She is so sweet and I feel like I can really just lay everything out on the line and not have it be judged as me being dramatic.  I started seeing her for my anxiety over driving in snow, which she told me is actually a little more serious, panic attacks.  Today we talked about it more, about how panic and anxiety sort of fills so many areas of my life, like it 'owns' me, I plan around anticipated anxiety and I feel like my life is a series of planning ahead for the worst.  As I was telling her this I began to get emotional about it and I realized right before it came out of my mouth, "It's like I have no peace, I'm always worried about one thing or the other."  I never thought or said that before.  I was in denial I guess, but once it came out I felt like something got unstuck, like all those times I felt not good but didn't know why, and I was praying for something to surface so I could fix it, and then, there it was, in one little sentence.  In the middle of the morning.  On Monday. 
Then she asked if I had always felt this anxiety and lack of peace and again, I had never questioned this, I just thought it was about driving in snow, started when we moved from a non-snowy state back to a snowy state.  I thought about my childhood and how emotionally unstable my mother was, and how I never really felt a great sense of security.  I was painfully shy and socially awkward; maybe austism, both of my kids have it, but in the 70's that wasn't as well known and my mother was the type that believed she could discipline any unwanted behaviors out of her kids.  I told her that many times I went to bed feeling like a failure, like I wasn't sure if I was loved, and very lonely.  My dad was an alcoholic and my mom was emotionally closed-off.  Mom had "good days" or good moments as it were, she'd have times when she'd invite us to make crafts with her, and tickle us or sing out loud like she was really joyful, but then I never knew when the switch was going to flip.  Funny, I didn't really cry when I was talking about my mom, even though all this stuff has hurt me since I was a child, but I got all kinds of emotional when I was talking about my anxiety.  Maybe because I have had so many years of thinking about my mom issues that it feels familiar but the anxiety feels new.  Maybe because I could blame the mom issues on my mom but the anxiety is all mine, and an ever-so-small part of me feels like a failure because I let the anxiety become my story. 
I cried a lot today.  I cried when I was talking to Brittany, I cried in the car afterword, and recalling what we'd talked about, I cried when I was writing to my sister about it... but it felt like they were healing tears.  Finally, after all these years of carrying all of this burden, there seems to be something lightening up.  When Brittany asked why I think I was able to overcome all of that stuff I grew up dealing with I said, " As an adult I realized that her view of me comes from her own perspective and her own messed up childhood, but I have the ability to write my own story."  And I realized that I have not spent enough time focusing on that; what feels like a simple sentence took a lot of grit to bring to reality.  I don't praise myself enough for what I've not only overcome but gone on to have a relatively successful, happy life.  I am not repeating the cycles that have gone on in our family for years.  I don't claim to be Super Mom but I am nurturing and I let my kids know I love them, and if I am crabby and prone to whining or bitching, I let them know that I'm feeling that way, and that it isn't because of them, but just some whacked out hormones or something. 
So today was emotional but very healing.  I know I'm on the right path.  All other healing-whether it's healing my relationship with food, or my snow anxiety-starts from healing the dysfunctional way I grew up and the irrational beliefs I have about myself as a result.  If only 2 therapy sessions can make me feel this good, I'm going to keep going until my insurance stops paying! 
I see big, wonderful things on the horizon and I am looking forward to the journey.  Even if it is a little snow covered and slippery. 

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