LOL!!! Agree.

Posted this last night while I was trying to get myself tired enough to sleep, but now I'll comment on it more.

I did find they made some interesting points about pathologizing so much of life experience anymore. That part is probably what most caught my attention in the article. I fell into pathologizing myself for a long while in my own life. In retrospect, I realize that mindset -- for me -- created less confidence, less resilience, more anxiety, more depression.

I was with my last therapist about a decade, and fortunately, he always reminded me that our goal was to eventually not need him. That was the type of therapist I needed because as I saw progress, I was able to work toward choosing to end therapy without that idea being frightening or some major decision -- it was a very natural decision in the end, and it was a personal triumph for me.

And in the last 12 years since I ended therapy, I have found that when I encounter what life throws at me -- and it has thrown some awful things at me -- I am able to find my resilience and the skills and the personal grace to deal with the messiness of life without personal judgement, without panic, without fearing I am losing my mind.

I don't regret my long years of therapy. They served their purpose at the time. I DO sometimes regret the many years spent contemplating my belly button -- what if I could have learned what I know now faster? "What ifs" are killer thoughts. But then I remind myself that it was that process that, for some reason, I had to go through to get where I am now -- long as the process was. I think my regret centers somewhere around the time lost that could have been better spent with my husband and my children -- time that I can't get back. But that very wonderful last decade with my husband AFTER therapy would not have been so wonderful if I hadn't grown through those years of therapy. So I take a deep breath and remind myself that change is inevitable and necessary and unstoppable. My timeline of my life contains this era that needed those years in therapy, and I can accept that, while not a "pretty" time, it was a necessary time.

Perhaps the biggest lesson I learned in therapy was that struggle is normal. Grief is normal. Change is normal. It took me SO long to accept myself as normal -- not a bundle of pathological symptoms. It took SO long to give myself the grace to struggle, to hurt, to grieve, to change (and to give other people the grace to do the same). But now I have the ability to take a deep breath, acknowledge that what I am thinking and feeling is happening without trying to run from it, and sit patiently while my thoughts and feelings work themselves out -- they always do eventually.

Damn it! if that mindfulness mumbo jumbo I fought my therapist over hasn't turned out to actually be THE most useful tool for living - LOL.

Sorry for the long-winded musing. This is the time of year that marks my husband's long illness and death, so I get rather philosophical. It was three years ago but feels like yesterday . . . and so I mindfully take a deep breath and give myself the grace to keep on grieving. Yes, it is hugely uncomfortable. BUT! It's normal. It's expected. The intensity is survivable. And I will move, not past it -- that isn't really possible -- but forward, into whatever life has in store.