This song has been in my head allllllllll week. Makes sense though, because last week I kinda opened the door to how I got started on this journey of reclaiming Mon.
'Do you need to talk to somebody?' That's the question my husband Chris asked me after my breakdown walking Deacon. If you know anything about having a kid, you know they always get mamas to complete a survey to make sure we aren't suffering from postpartum depression. The thing was though, I wasn't thinking about harming myself or anyone else. I was mad. All the damn time. At myself, the kids, the world. Skepticism, sarcasm, and rage dripped from my lips. No one was doing what I needed them to for my day to go smoothly. So yeah, I needed to talk to someone.
It's so weird how some circles stigmatize therapy. (You know who you are.) But to be honest, our friends and family aren't trained to deal with the mess that we need to unpack. And if they are trained, you need to run them their money. Initially, I hid it from those closest to me. I looked the part on the outside but inside I didn't know who I was. And I wanted to run away from it all because it was everyone else's fault that I was mad, right?
My first therapist was a great listener but as my friend a fellow Earth sign noticed, she didn't give much in practical tips to help turn the tide. We lasted about a year, and she moved. I found a new therapist who sat my ass down.
'Why are you holding all this stuff? Most of it's not yours.'