Joint Session

So, I'm not sure if I mentioned this or not, but Oscar is in therapy. At my request. Actually, it was more like my demand. Kind of one of those "Get your ass into therapy or be prepared to find me packing a bag and moving the hell out" things. Because things around here got kind of bad for a while, and while I had been encouraging him to get therapy for a while, he had hemmed and hawed about it and found excuses not to do it. But then something really crappy happened, and I won't get into what that was because while I'm all about telling poop stories and revealing why I am a complete fruitcake, Oscar didn't ask for that kind of notoriety. Suffice it to say, the crappy thing happened and I told Oscar if he wanted me to stick around and support him through the crappy thing, he had to throw me a bone and get into therapy.

Which, thankfully, he did.

So he's been going every week for quite a while, now. In the process, he's come to realize that wow, he really DID need the therapy, and things have been gradually improving. They started improving even more when he quit resisting my other suggestion that maybe it would be a good idea if he got on anti-depressants. (When he finally figures out how brilliant I actually am, we'll be in excellent shape.) It's been really good, not only for him, but for our marriage.

BUT!

(You knew there was a "but" coming, didn't you?)

Oscar's therapy was kind of stagnating a bit, because while he recognized that things were still not as great with him as they could be, he was having a hard time figuring out what needed to happen to make things better. And his therapist, recognizing that Oscar is an incredibly intelligent, very logical man, but that maybe he has a harder time vocalizing what's happening with him emotionally, suggested that perhaps it would be a good idea if Oscar's wife came in for one of his sessions so that we could identify some key issues and get some perspective on how to move forward. Which is how I found myself sitting across from Oscar's therapist last night.

Now, before I go on, I just want to say that anyone who is consistently attending therapy sessions and dealing with their issues in an effort to get emotionally and mentally healthy? Is So. Very. Brave. I KNEW I wasn't the focus of last night's session and I was still nervous walking into the room and sitting down to talk. It's daunting, the idea of opening yourself up to another person and risking their judgment. So I have all the respect in the world for Oscar for doing it week after week.

In any case, there I am, sitting down across from Oscar's therapist, waiting to find out what it is she wants to talk about (and secretly wondering if perhaps Oscar had misled me and she is ACTUALLY wanting to talk to me about what a stark, raving bitch I am....which....clearly.) She starts off by telling me what her goals for this session are, which basically include getting my opinion about the way things are going and how to better direct their progress. And of course, she's doing her best to make me feel comfortable, but if there's anything you, my readers, should know about me by now, it's that I am not afraid to express my opinion, even when it hasn't been asked for. The fact that she was actually soliciting my opinion about things? Well, she has only herself to blame for the flurry of words rained down upon her supporting my various and assorted viewpoints.

So we talked, and talked, and talked some more and she nodded her head a lot and said "That makes a lot of sense" to me, which, HELLO with the VALIDATING! I felt so brilliant and put-together! Because here's a therapist! And she is asking ME how to fix things with Oscar! And when I tell her, she's nodding and saying "yes!" Oscar should be giving ME his co-pay every week! Except that I'm his wife! And since when, in the history of marriage, has a man ever taken his wife's word as gospel when he could instead pay someone else to tell him the exact same thing! And why am I still using exclamation points! Because I can, that's why! Vive la exclamation points!

Ahem. It was a very good session, made even more so because there wasn't a single thing that I said in that room that I hadn't already discussed with Oscar. He wasn't surprised by anything, and it was all calm and rational, and I think both of us walked away with the sense that things can only get better for us from here. I think we were both feeling relieved. And I've been invited back anytime. I told his therapist, much as I appreciated the offer, that I think they have enough material to marinate on for a while and that I wouldn't consider intruding again for some time. Truthfully? I think the last thing Oscar or his self-esteem need is to have his therapist AND his wife ganging up on him every week. Isn't that every man's worst nightmare? After having his Mr. Happy chopped off? Right. That's what I thought.