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| admitting defeat |
I'm stubborn.
I'm also quite capable, independent and resourceful.
I am strong and a good learner.
I know when to rely on others, when to get the job done myself, and hopefully when to call it quits and call in the experts. Sometimes the latter takes a while. It's not a good feeling to admit defeat but it's a necessary and grown up thing to do. That's why I've finally called it quits with the mental gridlock inside my own head and called in the experts.
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| panic sets in |
A couple of weeks ago, Wee Guy and I visited the Vancouver Art Gallery for our semi-regular Date Night. After a high speed march through the Surrealist exhibit (taking cultural events at child-speed eases the visit) we 'did' the rest of the building. Currently, VAG is hosting an exhibit of local artist, Ken Lum's work. It's well worth a visit, with thought-provoking large scale installations on view. One of these is his mirror maze, like the PNE version or far more disorienting ... and with a message. Etched into the mirrors of Lum's maze are the 12 clinical symptoms of depression - I have no friends, I am a failure, I feel alone in the world, and so on; statements I am really familiar with. Progress through the maze is slow and anxious - there is no clear path out and the mirror images are deceiving. The Wee Guy got quite panicked when he realised he couldn't march straight through so I took his hand, calmed him down and showed him that with care and concentration, it was possible to leave the maze.
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| which way now??? |
And that's what I'm hoping for, and for his sake too. I'm dealing with being 'stuck'; of being left alone to 'cure myself'; the bitterness of realising the one person who is a root cause, who should be there for me, is unwilling or incapable of stepping up to the plate for me; of feeling that there is no one in my corner to catch me if I fall. It's a lot to deal with alone and then have to put the 'mum' smile back on. Meeting with a therapist for my own misery is for my son's benefit as well as my own. It's no fun having a mum who drifts off into her own unhappiness, is unable to move forward, isn't present for her child - this isn't what childhood is about, this isn't what mothering is about either. While I might be admitting defeat in my own capabilities, I hope I can show my Wee Guy that seeking help is a strong thing to do, that sometimes we all need another pair of hands, another pair of eyes, a soul in our corner when we've exhausted all other routes.
So - my name is Amanda. I am in therapy.
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| we can do this, together |
