therapy

I may have mentioned before, I come from a family that has this weird ideological opposition to therapy. Like it's going on your record for the rest of your life and somehow someone (the government? Schools? Your neighbors?) will use it against you.

Nibble has some anxiety issues (hey apple, meet the tree you fell from), and they're resulting in some behavior that's occasionally less than stellar.  My parents witnessed one of these outbursts.  Viking and I believe that maybe talking to a therapist would be helpful to her. We were quietly talking about it at my parents' house.

My dad called earlier today...

"You shouldn't take her to a therapist, that will go on her record,"

"Wait, WHA?????"

"It will be part of her medical record."

"I'm so confused.  What's wrong with talking to someone who's neutral about her emotions? If she's having problem with outbursts and getting angry, maybe talking to someone about coping mechanisms will help her."

"No, She shouldn't need that her parents should be able to help her."

hmmmm..

"Dad, you DO know I saw a therapist for many years."

"When? Why?"

"Um, because eight of my babies died."

"Oh, that. Fine. Never mind.  You don't want to listen to me."

"No, you're making my point for me.  Your response is *exactly* why I had to seek therapy..."

"[now he's cutting me off] Yeah, we're terrible parents so you needed a therapist. You did talk to me about your pregnancies."

"[Deep breath] You're great parents.  But you couldn't help me cope when I wanted to rush under a table every time someone on TV called me a murderer.  Everytime I felt like my heart was racing out of my chest. And you couldn't say things that would make me feel better when I was in the depths of grief. So I saw a therapist.  And my only regret is that I didn't go sooner.  I needed to speak to someone to give me the tools to function. That doesn't make you bad parents.  Just like it doesn't make me or V bad parents because we aren't the best people to give Niblet the tools she needs to cope better when she's worked up. The whole point is that we're NOT therapists."

SIGH. that was exhausting. And there were parts of that interchange where my heart felt like it was racing out of my chest. Luckily I have a fucking champ of a therapist and I walked away from that conversation without any yelling and with my basic wits about me.