I can’t calm myself down. I miswrote calm just now, typing clam. Ha, that’s funny. The reason for my internal freak out is I’m scared that an upcoming family therapy session will devolve into a Jerry Springer episode. Did my use of Jerry Springer date me? Guess not; Google tells me it only stopped airing in 2018.
Back to what I was saying, I’m freaking out. At my office an hour early I’m taking the time to prepare. Like a rapper or boxer with hype men around, jazzing them up before a show, I’m doing the opposite. “You got this” and “I trust you” are quieting the storm slightly, but so is writing.
How about I run over what I’m going to do? To start the session, I plan to reiterate the goals – to improve communication and understand one another better, and to check in on any additional goals. I also plan to revisit the emotional content from last week. I want to ask things like, “What do you think was going on with you,” Or “What do you think was going on with them?”
My sensitivity is not for not. Last week I got swept out to sea in all the emotions and conflict, and am curious, will I do it again?
No! I plan to keep a hard line with myself; Jaclynn, you will not jump into the fray. I plan to wiggle my feet in deep into the sandy shore and throw life preservers from there.
Why don’t you just quit? The thought flew into my mind unexpectedly, just a Tasmanian devil-like dusty blast. Not to worry, I stopped it in its tracks; where I’m going, there’s no room for doubt or fear.
Helping people is my life!
I wish, growing up, my family had a place to go to learn how to be successful with one another. But we didn’t. And although it makes me sad for could have been, I’m hopeful because there’s still time for this family.
Whoop, whoop! Best session ever!
The after-session glow is real, a brilliant high, like a cigarette after sex. (I don’t smoke, and the reference could be better, but I’m sure you get my drift.)
The main takeaway is this; I saw it, they tasted it, and we all know they can do this.
I’m about to lay my head and dream dreamy dreams. Oh, Evelyn, how I love the way her toddler self throws y’s onto the ends of words, like beary bear, and swimmy swim. It’s simply delightful.
Well, nighty night. Love, Jaclynn
Going On 40 