Therapy

I have been in therapy for the past month or so.

I have been in therapy before. When I lived in L.A., it was common to know people who had more than one therapist. To just see one was, duh, a no-brainer -- especially in the entertainment community. I also started a Master's program in clinical psychology when I lived in L.A., and part of being in school to become a psychologist is being in therapy yourself.

Ironically, though, it was my mother-in-law -- to whom we haven't spoken in almost four years -- who pushed me into therapy when she demanded that Husband and I attend premarital counseling. I don't remember what she held over our heads, but we did it to appease her. Eventually, I just kept seeing that therapist on my own. Hey, even evil mothers-in-law are good for something.

In any case, therapy is not so common in my current suburban landscape. People do go, but it's much more on the down low. A lot of the therapists in my area are based in religion, too. It can make finding a good match for me difficult. But I decided to brave the sparse tundra to find an outlet and, I hoped, some better coping mechanisms. I found myself dwelling on Stuff that I couldn't actually blog about for reasons of privacy, and I didn't know what else to do.

One of the little truths that came out during my sessions recently was a recurring feeling that my kids and I don't have a lot of completely positive or bonding experiences during our weeks together. There is a lot of discipline on my part, a lot of time management, a lot of "yes, you have to." As I have written before, I feel like I am always the bad guy, and furthermore, that I don't even really speak the language of the other denizens of my household. I feel like an outsider.

The therapist stopped and paused and asked, "Is there anything you do with your kids that you feel is just positive and bonding?" He noted that I don't play video games with them like Husband does. No, I don't play video games. I have a complicated relationship with them, for one thing, and I have a hard time sitting still in my house because I feel like there is Always Something to Be Done, for another. He nodded, and waited for me to come  up with something, anything.

"I volunteer in their classrooms," I offered. "That is the one time when I feel like they truly are excited to see me and are happy about what I am doing."

There has been a lot of brouhaha about volunteering moms lately. Moms are experiencing volunteer burnout, there is push back on how much help schools expect or rely on from parents, and some parents are even upset that other mothers are given so much access to their children's educational experiences. I understand points from all those points of view. But the truth for me is that my children's eyes light up when I walk into their classrooms. Even Firstborn makes a point of hugging me when I am there. They are proud of me. And unfortunately, that's not a feeling I get to have every day.

I am working on other ways to bond with the kids. In the summer, I get to take them to water parks, and that is fun for all of us. Someday, I hope we can afford another family vacation -- our last true attempt was when Firstborn was four, four years ago. I'm working up the motivation to pull out Just Dance and make them play with me on the Wii.

One of my biggest goals in the coming year is to find ways to be me with my children -- not as their boss or their manager, but as their mom. My goal isn't really for them, either -- it's for me.