The Impasse: Why I Need My Therapist

Life is pretty good. Overall, no complaints. The job is well. My son is doing absolutely amazing to the point where I'm damned near wondering if he's really my child. Steve is still in the mix. He absolutely adores me and this is quite a new feeling. It feels good to be with him. So natural. Except-

I recently exchanged numbers with a guy, whom I like. I don't have nearly the connection to him that I have to Steve. He actually reminds me a lot of Freeman, in D.C. He's professional, together, logical, practical. Everything I've needed in my life up to this point. Before my total reset with Pete's death, this guy, Daniel, would be the first guy I'd be trying to marry. Sometimes I feel like I need a man like Daniel in my life. Someone strong, organized, a planner. A man who knows that I'm bat shit insane, but is willing to just ride with that.

He's not Steve. The idea of a Steve didn't come to me after Pete's death. A woodsman, nature lover, easy going, good ole boy who is all about going with the flow. No need for rings and titles, we just do what is. Sometimes I feel like I could spend a lot more time with Steve.

I met up with a guy friend yesterday who reminded me that I have until roughly the age of 45 to figure out what the hell I want. Do I want to be the eternal bachelorette, afraid and unwilling to settle down, but deeply alone underneath it all? Or do I want to be settled and trying my best to make myself happy, despite wanting to just date around? I don't know.

I can't help but to feel like these two men represent various parts of my psyche. Part of me is a raging hippy, who just wants to sit by a lake barefoot and watch the days stroll by. The other part of me wants to progress, organize, save money and have the next 30 years of my life planned out. It isn't just about the screwing around, its about the other stuff too. Do I want the big house, the plans, the guy who is going to hold me accountable and make me responsible? Shit yeah!! Do I want the guy who goes swimming in the middle of the night, who I can call with the most random and weird of stuff, who seems to actually enjoy when I fall further into my web of weirdness? Absolutely!!

This all goes back to my therapist. Its funny that when I was meeting with her, we were there because of my deep-rooted mommy issues, but she was able to observe my inability to commit to one man. Then I went back to her after Pete's death. Its been over a year, but I'm ready to go back. She warned me that if I saw her afterward, we'd have to deal with my parents. I think I may be ready.

I happened upon my therapist in a Facebook group that I'm a part of, and I took it as a sign that its time for me to tackle this shit once and for all. She doesn't take insurance, and despite it all, I'm willing to pay cash for her. I'm comfortable with her and she knows me. She knows my quirks. Knows what I need to work on. Knows that I have so much resentment toward my mother, that if I focus on it too hard, my whole life falls into a shambles.

But I can't walk this tightrope forever. Or can I?

In the Now

Holy shit, have I really been blogging for 10 years?! My God!! Welp, its official, I gotta keep this going. Life is, well, its life. The job is still here (thank God) although I may be falling back from my part-time job soon. The biggest transition is the car accident that I was in on June 8th (coincidentally, Pete's birthday).

Leading up to that point, Steve and I had restarted our friendship, but barely. I was skittish and still feeling some kind of way about the fact that I had to practically beg him to enter a relationship with me, yet 2 weeks after we broke up, he had a new girlfriend. I knew that he still carried a flame for me, but I refused to play the side-chick, so I kept him at arm's length. He'd always promised to take me fishing one day, so out of no-where, I texted to ask him when he'd take me. That was when he broke the news that his grandfather had been killed that morning in a house fire. My heart broke for him. Sure, I may have been kind of salty about how things happened, but I knew that Steve adored his grandfather and he spend most of his waking time at the family home. Like I tend to do for friends in crisis, I made myself available for Steve during that time. He was surprised that I was there for him.

The same day of his grandfather's funeral, I'd just gotten paid and decided that I needed to buy a few things for my son. On my way home, I saw a truck veering down a hill, with sparks flying from it. I watched as a tire rolled down the hill and hit my car. It knocked the front bumper off and really shook me up. My arm was achy. Thankfully the kid was okay, neither of us had real pain at the time. As we went to the hospital, there were two people I wanted more than anyone- Steve and my stepmommy. Stepmommy was at the hospital when we arrived.

While in the hospital, I was given a muscle relaxer that did me right. Steve came by my home with his cousin and chatted with me about the whole thing that night. They both chuckled about how clearly out of my head I was from the muscle relaxer. When it was time to part, Steve put his arm around me and walked me down the steps into my apartment, to make sure I didn't trip and fall. That's the thing about Steve- he's always been the kind of man to make sure I was okay. I'd always felt that if I ever got sick or injured, he'd be the man who would help to take care of me. Now there he was, in his own little way, making sure that I was good. The next day, he followed up by asking me if I needed him to send a pizza over for my son. Not even for me, but for The Boy. I'm not sure if Steve knows how much that will always warm my heart.

As time went on, he and I just continued to kind of lean on each other. I was without a car, and he grieved. Two days after the accident, I also realized that I'd had a concussion when I developed a deep stutter. I hated it. I was so depressed and angry. I was just driving down the damned street, and suddenly my car was gone, I was achy, and I had a brain injury. I felt useless. I hated that I couldn't have a conversation without getting tongue-tied. I felt like a moron. Steve made me feel beautiful.
We definitely got closer, but I remained conscious of the fact that Steve had a girlfriend. He never thought it was much of a thing, but I saw how much his children needed him, the mothers of his children needed him, compounded with a girlfriend to answer to. A constant statement I made to him was "you don't have room for me."

He eventually broke up with her. We still spend time together. Sometimes I think about getting back with him. But then I remember that things fell to shit when we got together the first time and it makes me nervous. So we stay in limbo. I battled a stomach bug for the last two days and he came over last night and gave me an i.v. drip (he works in the medical field). I flinched like a bitch, but he looked me in the eye and he was firm but gentle. I needed that.

Moving Forward

This isn't getting any easier. Her name is Celeste and I went to high school with her. Although she was only there a number of months before she transferred elsewhere, we bonded and kept in touch even after she switched schools. She got pregnant right after high school, and had her daughter the following April. Celeste and I were pretty thick. Running the streets, chasing boys, she was my road dog, even after she had her daughter.

Eventually Celeste got pregnant a second time, and the family she had here sent her back home to Illinois. That was the last I'd seen of Celeste for a long while, even though we managed to stay in touch via social media. She got heavily involved in activism in her area, and I was pretty impressed and amazed that even though we'd led separate lives in separate cities, we maintained similar interests. She began the Clear Book Bag Initiative, which sought to give children clear book bags, filled with school supplies, all while I worked toward the food pantry at the Atlanta University Center.

A little under a year ago, I'd seen posts on Celeste's Facebook page, in an album she created called C-Journey. I called her immediately and asked what was up. She told me then that she'd been diagnosed with Stage 4 breast cancer. Coincidentally, about 3 days before she told me, I'd read an article about what to say if someone tells you they have cancer. The article suggested not making the patient's diagnosis about you (so no getting emotional and focusing on your own sadness and potential loss as the other person has to console you, despite them being the one with the actual sickness). Also, no offering examples of the person you know that was magically cured from cancer. Essentially, let the patient talk, let them lead the conversation. So that's what I did. I didn't cry while I was on the phone with her. I didn't offer miracle solutions. I just listened, told her how sorry I was and offered my help. Her words were then, "I've made peace with it."

I spent about 3 days in a funk. I cried, I was angry. I planned to drive up to see her one day. At the time, the job I had paid shit, so there was no way I could have afforded to miss work AND drive up. I was robbing Peter to pay Paul. I swore I'd eventually find a way up. Like it always seems to do, life got in the way.

I'd occasionally text Celeste to check in. She'd text back, but not really say much. Her posts on Facebook got fewer and fewer. People would post on her page, and there would be silence. No response from her, no likes or anything. I observed this, and hoped for the best. One day, I decided to call her. Her phone was disconnected. I knew how to find out what I needed to know. I typed "Celeste ### Obituary."

She was gone.

She'd been dead for about a month by then. I guess I'd gotten all of my tears out by then. I didn't cry much. Just focusing. How could a woman my age get Stage 4 breast cancer? She's not old because I'm not old. Also focusing on her children. She left 4 daughters. When she gave birth to her first daughter, she made me a god-mother. I had no earthly idea that I would be called in to step up to the plate one day.

Over the years, her daughter and I didn't communicate at all. I'd see her pictures on her mother's Facebook page, but being that she was graduating high school and I hadn't seen her since she was an infant, I thought that contacting her before would be a tad out of place. But now things are different. Now she is a 19-year-old young lady in college who's mother died a couple of months ago from cancer. Yeah, this is a good time to reach out to her.

As all people do when reaching out to new people in 2018, I inboxed her on Facebook. I introduced myself, telling her that I was a good friend of her mother's when she was born, and asking to meet up with her one day. She reached out to me and said that would work for her.

It was kind of odd initially (for her, I think, not really for me). I picked her up from her god mother's house (lol apparently I was replaced over the years). She was as beautiful as I remembered. Very sweet. Mannerable. Reserved. We sat down, and I told her that I knew her mother from high school and that I was hanging with her mother around the time that she got pregnant and asked if she had any questions for me.

She did have a few. I had her do the math and explained that her mother got pregnant with her essentially right after high school. I explained to her the situation regarding her sister's birth. She asked about her sister's father and I told her what I knew. The daughter told me how she'd lived with her father for the first few years of her life, before she moved back with her mother. She shared that things were rough with her mother. I explained to her that being a single mother of 4, who started having children at a young age, was probably a challenge and that at the end of the day, we all do the best we can.

I teared. Her daughter teared slightly, and admitted that our conversation was the first she'd had about her mother in depth, since she died. I laughed and told her that I'd just put all of her mama's business in the streets. Then I started to wonder, did I do the right thing? My intention wasn't to be gossipy. I just knew that her daughter would want answers. My mama is living (she's dead to me, but that's a different story entirely), but yeah, I'd want answers.

So Celeste is gone. No more impassioned Facebook posts. No more plans to drive to Illinois. Now I have to do everything in my power to make sure the young lady gets out of college. Celeste would have wanted that. That's why I'm the god mother.