What Did You Do in the Last Hour?

I don’t want to be all, “Oh hi! Me again! I’m sure you’re all wondering why I haven’t been posting in months!” Because let’s be real – none of you were wondering. BUT I was talking to my husband yesterday, and I talked about how it makes me jumpy when people in the mental illness blogging community stop posting. Because…what happened to them? I like to think they suddenly won the lottery and moved to an island in the Caribbean where they’re so busy swinging in hammocks and reading books that they’re no longer bothered with blogging about the trivialities of life.

But as anyone in this blogging community knows…that’s not usually what happens. Best case scenario, the blogger’s life got busy. Worst case scenario…well. No one likes to think of that, but we all worry about it.

So – here I am, just in case anyone wondered. I’m not in the Caribbean, but I’m also not a worst case scenario. I’m still over here navigating life on this side of normal – how have y’all been?

Here’s a nugget from my life for you:

Thursday night, I went to a new book study group. I love books, and I marginally like people. So a book group should be fun, right?

For our icebreaker, the woman leading it asked us to detail what happened in the hour of our lives that immediately preceded book study. I think it was a way to show, “Hey, we’re all busy, frantic women. No need to keep up pretense and pretend that we have it all together.” But I couldn’t tell the full truth. I just couldn’t. Because do you want to know what happened in the hour preceding that question? Check it out:

An hour before she asked that question, I was failing at therapy. Oh, you didn’t know you could fail at therapy? Me neither. And YET I DID.

I was sitting in therapy, about to leave, and my therapist said that we should make an appointment to meet again before our next scheduled one. She said it seemed like I could “benefit from some extra support.” Which, okay, I admit that she was right and that an extra meeting isn’t technically failing therapy. But it felt like, “What?! I’m not capable of doing life without you until our next appointment?? AHHHH! How messed up am I?”

This is obviously a me issue, and I probably need therapy to get over the fact that I have declared I failed at therapy (how very metacognitive of me. Someone somewhere give me a gold star, please).

So I reluctantly agreed to remedial therapy, and then it was time to go. Plot twist: my mom works at the same clinic where I go for therapy, but she doesn’t know I go there. My mom gets all jumpy if she knows I’m seeing a therapist or if I’m not completely 100% stable-to-the-point-of-emotionless. I’m still not positive she believes in mental illness as a real thing…in the past she’s told me to pray my way out of it. SO. I didn’t want to run into my mom. My therapist knows this (and even books my appointments under a pseudonym like I’m a spy or something). She peeked into the hall to make sure my mom wasn’t there…but my mom was in the office. Crap. She was doing paperwork, so it could be any length of time until she was finished.

My therapist offered to sneak me out of the back door. She said I could sneak around to the parking lot through the woods and tell anyone who asked that I was looking for deer. L.O.L. But I took the offer. I tiptoe-sprinted through the back hallway like I was trying to escape the KGB, and I got to the woods undetected. Once I got to the parking lot, I breathed a sigh of relief.

PSYCH! NO RELIEF! Just then, my mom walked out the front door. EEEEEP!

I did the only logical thing to do in the situation. It was time to come clean and be honest with my mom like a mature adult, right?

HA. No. Definitely not. She wasn’t looking in my direction, so I dove into my car like an action movie star and hid under my steering wheel. I didn’t really fit, so I was also sort of curled around my gear shift. I was not breaking the line of sight through the window, though, so that’s all that really mattered.

I heard her car leave the lot, and then I waited a couple of minutes before peeking out. Just in case she was waiting out there to be like, “HA! I CAUGHT YOU BEING CRAZY!”

(Wow…I’m suddenly understanding why I need more therapy – lol!)

Luckily, the coast was clear. I turned on my car and high-tailed it out of there before she could realize she forgot something and decide to come back.

I drove straight to book study, where that lady asked me to detail the last hour of my life. And when a lot of women said things like, “I just got done making a homemade batch of applesauce!” or “I found a great sale on avocados at Aldi!” I decided they weren’t quite ready for my full dose of crazy. I went with, “I had a medical appointment that almost made me late” rather than, “I failed at therapy and then had to escape through the woods to evade my mother, where I then got a neck cramp from hiding under a steering wheel while I waited to see if she was going to bust me.”

Come to think of it, I should have said that. Because how many times do I have something so bizarre to say about the last hour of my life?

Missed you all, blogging peeps. Hope you’re doing awesome.

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19 thoughts on “What Did You Do in the Last Hour?

  1. I did miss you and wonder where you were. I didn’t worry though. You seem to be pretty self aware and have a good support system in your husband. But I do enjoy reading your insights.
    Now.
    I never really understood the phrase “ keeping it real” until about 2 minutes ago when I read that. That was real life. That is something that would happen to me or something I would do. Something I have, to an extent, done. Today. I CANNOT stand when ppl stop by unannounced and I have hidden in rooms and behind couches so I can pretend I’m not home. I just did so today in fact dragging my daughter into a room with me. It worked. Real life is a lot messier than avacados and applesauce. Plus avacados are not my fave. And I literally LOL to your story. And your therapist was the damn mastermind!
    Perhaps your therapist thinks you are so close to some sort of breakthrough that she needs you to come in more to help you along. Or perhaps she wants a new couch and she is adding appointments for her current patients so she doesn’t have to go to the trouble of getting new ones to enhance her income. Or maybe she is like my doctor and is like a hammer and everything is a nail. I told him once I wanted to go in a hot air balloon and he looked at me and asked if I was crazy. Then he started to interrogate me because he thought this may be high risk behavior and maybe the beginning of a manic episode and I said – nope. Always wanted to do it and my bday is coming up. I also once missed an appointment and he was certain I had died in the Boston Mararhon bombing. I assured him I was fine. I had not been to Boston in at least 20 years, I could never qualify for that mararhon anyhow and even if I did I would have been AT LEAST two hours away from the finish line when the bomb went off. Sorry- I just made this all about me.
    I think that the most likely scenario is that she knows you very well and may detect a little something that could use a little extra time and attention before it becomes a BIG something: a stitch in time saves nine and all.
    The only way you fail therapy is to give up.
    I’m so happy to see you back!

    Liked by 1 person

    • Ummmm….LOL! You had me laughing out loud in a coffee shop like a weirdo. But I didn’t even care.
      I too have hidden to pretend I wasn’t home. Is this way more common than everyone thinks?? Also, thanks for your thoughts on my therapist. There are a million reasons why she wants me to come in a little extra, and really it’s not that big of a deal. Thanks for the encouragement.

      Like

  2. Oh god, your mom does that too? At least I’m not alone. Mom’s EVERY answer to any question is “Pray about it.” because apparently The Giant Fairy Dude Who’s Not Actually A Gay Fairy Dude In The Sky has time to deal with everybody’s petty little problems instead of fixing the big shit.

    Assuming, of course, you believe that such a person exists in the first place. Which I don’t.

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    • Ugh…I understand the sentiment. I do believe in God, but I would be the first to admit it’s tough to understand why things like mental illnesses exist. And I’m REALLY QUITE SURE that we’re supposed to use medication and all available resources to help us. Not sure why so many old-school Christians have an issue with this. It’s a BRAIN DISEASE, people. Like your high cholesterol. But in my head. *sigh*

      Liked by 1 person

      • I think growing up in a very conservative Christian household did something to me. I’m not sure what, but all I know is I was kinda genetically destined to be broken and the way I was raised didn’t really help shit.

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  3. Hey! Glad you’re back, although I wasn’t worried–I can see your link when you click on my blog, so I knew you were out there, just biding your time until you could reappear with something hilarious like this! Is a therapy name something like a stripper name except instead of the name of your first pet and the street you grew up on, it’s the name of your favourite flower and your nickname for the body part you like the best? Mine would be Hydrangea Ladylamps.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. I literally was on the phone with a friend a couple months ago and, I kid you not, said, “My favorite blogger hasn’t blogged in a while, and that kinda worries me… like anytime someone who blogs about mental health stops blogging, I wonder how they’re doing…”
    so ummm, thank you for returning to us. ❤️

    Like

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