Yesterday I decided that it was time to finally seek out a therapist.
For the past week and a half I have been doing some soul searching. I’ve started writing on a daily basis. I’ve been reading a lot more than normal. I have been trying to be more intentional with the routines in my life.
This is not the first time I’ve tried this approach. I’ve attempted routines and rituals. For whatever reason I think that if I am able to just do that everything will be ok.
But that’s not how life works.
In the past when I’ve had a phase of introspection and desire for ritual I do usually figure some details out about myself. Or my place in this world. Or about what it actually takes for me to feel happy in a sustained way.
But it always fades.
The desire to keep up with the routines, which originally burned bright and hot, eventually dims and cools.
The organized rituals get overrun by the chaos of the unpredictability of each day.
Eventually, I realize that I haven’t taken a shower for a couple of days.
Or that there’s two bags of trash sitting next to the trash can that need to be taken out to the dumpster.
Or that the kids drew all over their bedroom wall again.
Or that I forgot to do the laundry for the third day in a row.
Those things start piling up and encroach on my rituals and I give up.
The worst part is that I get frustrated with my kids, my wife, and myself for not being able to keep up with my idealized life.
So, I’ve learned a bit. And I’m trying a different approach.
I don’t want to be insane.
I contacted a therapist yesterday for individual therapy. And we’ll see what she has to say about my rituals and routines being overrun by the chaos of the unpredictable.
And before that, I’ll try to remember to throw in a load of laundry and take a shower.