Finding a therapist
how many minutes a day do you laugh and hug?
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I heard on the radio recently that we’re supposed to laugh for 9 minutes a day for the greatest amount of stress relief.
Does 9 minutes feel like an exceptionally long time to anyone else?
Years ago, I heard somewhere (probably on the radio again while I was shifting gears and drinking coffee and eating a bagel while I was running late for something important) that you need to hug 16 times a day to lift your mood. My child-less husband and I started hugging 16 times a day. We had so much time for hugs. Sixteen was a breeze.
And then we had a child.
The other day, I was in an extraordinarily bad mood when I woke up to discover our cats had been peeing everywhere BUT the litter box for who-knows how long, and all the sudden it felt like I was brought to this earth for the sole purpose of cleaning up all the world’s bodily fluids, so my husband pulled me in for a hug in the kitchen. “Sixteen a day, don’t forget,” he said.
I did forget. I forgot about hugs and laughter and smiling and sunshine.
I’ve been stuck in a season of heavy boots. Heavy, heavy boots.
And OH the world feels like a heavy boots place, indeed. Sometimes I feel like we’re all collectively slogging through the days and I crave 9 minutes of laughter and 16 hugs a day and sandals dancing in some light and airy sand.
***
In one recent therapy session, I spent at least 20 minutes detailing my stress about the mail. Do people have systems for the mail? How do people sort and deal with the mail? Are there any husbands out there who believe in mail?
I moved on from the mail to talk about all the dirt and clutter in my house for at least 13 minutes. When do people clean their toilets?
“Do you think that maybe this isn’t all about the mail and the dirty house?” my therapist asked.
Touché.
Suddenly, I could see it. The heavy boots had stomped all over my house and my mind and everything felt slopped and stained with thick mud, caked on, seeping through every crack of my being.
These words by
hit home:“When the news of tragedy reaches the ears and eyes of a mother already in overwhelm here in her own small, safe world, it seeps out and threatens to spread itself over everything she touches in body and mind.
So I’m here to tell you that while I don’t have anything profound, I do have a reminder for you and for me: the difficulty you’re facing is real to you. It doesn’t need to be measured up to the pain of another and put up for consideration of whether it’s lesser or greater—it’s yours alone.”
Your overwhelm with sorting mail and cleaning toilets and everything that represents for the chaos in your mind is very real to you—and to me.
***
When I shared the start of my story about postpartum anxiety and depression, several people asked me offline: tell me again how you found your therapist.
FINDING A THERAPIST
Visit psychologytoday.com and enter your zip code to get started. Sort by insurance, issues, types of therapy, etc. to narrow down your search.
Read a few profiles and visit their individual websites to learn more.
Send several messages to providers who fit your criteria to see if they’re accepting new clients.
Follow up, schedule, and go for it.
And if it’s not a good fit, then start at step 1 and try again.
If you have a friend who attends counseling regularly, ask them about where they go and what they like about it. Can you go to the same place with a different provider? Do they prefer in-person or virtual, or a mix of both?
It’s clunky, hard work to find a therapist, not going to lie. It takes time and patience and persistence. Find someone who you can talk to about the decision of when to stop breastfeeding, everything that makes you anxious, clinical sleep deprivation, finding time to work out, sending your kid to daycare, celebrating special moments, navigating unexpected illnesses, milestone comparisons, raising a good human, carving out your space, friendships as a new mom, and literally countless other topics that will never find their way to this public space.
***
My son points to cars, trucks, and minivans and calls them all “tactors.” Everything else in the world he calls a “da-doo.” He’s started saying “car” in a Boston accent and it’s precious.
In the bath, he puts his face to the bubbles and comes up saying “Cheeeese!” with a bubble beard.
When Old MacDonald Had A Farm starts playing, he sings “Ee-i-ee-i-o” in his soft little toddler voice.
He stomps his tiny velcro Vans across the wooden bridge with his hands in Poppy’s hands and the two of them burst into a giggle at how silly the stomps sound.
On the swing, he throws his head back and closes his eyes and smiles up at the blue sky filled with white puffy clouds.
He wakes up with wide eyes of wonder, pointing and shouting “Ooooohhhh!” to the same Paw Patrol book he read last night, the same green “tactor” he pushed yesterday, the same maple waffle cereal he ate at yesterday’s breakfast. Suddenly, it’s all brand new to him like he’s experiencing it all for the first time.
It’s magic.
We all question: where did he learn that? Where does that childlike wonder come from?
If we learn to watch and listen closely to our kids, especially if you’re given a really funny kid (of course, my son is the funniest kid on earth), we’ll find that 9 minutes of laughter we’ve been searching for all along.
Give these a try…
Start here to find a therapist near you who specializes in motherhood and postpartum depression and anxiety. I found one who I love on the first try and I know that’s a gift.
Episode 182 of the 10 Things to Tell You podcast by
, 10 Things About 10 Years of Therapy, is full of helpful insight about investing in therapy over time. Your therapist isn’t a magician, it gets worse before it gets better, and so much more. Highly recommend listening if you’re curious about therapy.What would a post about therapy be without a journal prompt? Incomplete. Give this a try… Put your phone away and set your timer for 10 minutes. When did you notice yourself smiling this week? When did you feel those heavy boots weighing you down? How did that feel in your body? What advice would you give someone else in the same situation? (If your time journaling takes you in a different direction, follow that thread instead!)
“I didn’t want to be at mile 1. No one wants to be at mile 1. Mile 1 feels like an eternity; it feels like you are never going to finish. Nothing about the beginning of a journey feels sexy. There’s nothing to boast over. There’s no testimony post for mile 1.
I often don’t even tell people about mile 1—that I even bothered to start—because I am usually fearful that I will quit the next day. I’ve made so many promises to myself that I haven’t kept, and I can only imagine how damaging it is for my psyche, how much therapy I need for that treasure trove of unkept promises…
Mile 1. This may be where you are right now, at the very beginning of everything that is about to unfold.
Mile 1 is wobbly.
Mile 1 is embarrassing.
Mile 1 is the point in the story where all the voice will conspire in your brain to try to tell you, ‘Don’t even bother. You can’t do this. Change is just too hard.’ But there’s the only person who can reach the mile marker—it’s you. You’re responsible for strapping on that mile tracker and beginning to run toward something new.”
, author of Fighting Forward