2011 February 03 | Heir to Blair

I don’t write about therapy too often on here.

It’s intense. & private. There are things that are confessed & fears that are stated behind the door of my psychiatrist’s office….confessions & fears that are not appropriate for polite conversation. That little office is a sanctuary for my view on life. Sipping on tea, my doctor works on my heart with her incredible blend of gentle pushing & firm pulling.

She looked at me today & said, “I hope you understand what an incredible recovery you have made.” My heart swelled. In one year’s time, I have transformed from a shell of a woman into someone who truly basks in life & motherhood. & this Spring, we will begin to wean me off the last of my meds.

Healed.

Whole.

Ready.

It can be done. I promise.

Lamb, meet clippers.

Harrison’s curls were OUT. OF. CONTROL. I don’t have a before picture because my camera died (aka I kept forgetting to re-charge the battery), but the kid was peering out from under bangs that almost swept his nose while curls brushed the top of his collar.

Translation? He was starting to look like a girl.

So I took him in for a haircut & he sat on my lap playing with my phone while I’m pointing out the remaining rat tail to the gal with the scissors & she’s all, “More off the sides? Yes?” & I’m like, “NO. RAT TAIL. GET THE RAT TAIL.” & she’s all ::snip snip:: off the front until all the precious curls are gone.

harry porch wm Lamb, meet clippers.