3 Pairs of Clean Underwear

    Someone asked me today if I had considered counselling.

    As a matter of fact, I am not at all opposed to counselling. I have gone to a counsellor before.

     When my daughter had meningitis, I did not sleep the entire time she was in the hospital. I watched every single breath she took. I was afraid that if I fell asleep, something would change, she would wake up, or she would die, and I would miss it. The doctors did not know if she would make it. I only asked "when" she would wake up.

    On the sixth day, she had woken up and we were able to take her home. On the sixth night, I still did not sleep.

    I had lost my trust...the trust that I could go to sleep and wake up and my children would still be okay. I had broken something very vital in my mind. It had been replaced by fear....

    I still did not sleep. I knew it was insane.

    On the ninth day, I went to my doctor. I told him I had not slept since July 24th. He immediately gave me prescriptions to sleep and scheduled an appointment with a counsellor for me.

    I was of course fidgety and nervous in the waiting room. I had finally slept, so I wished I had been wearing a T-shirt that said, "No, I am not crazy, I just had a bad week."

     I laughed to myself in the waiting room thinking about this. I laughed because if I were in the waiting room of a psychiatrist and I saw someone wearing that T-shirt, I would probably sit farther away from them...

      When I met the psychiatrist and he asked me why I was there, I told him a brief synopsis about my children and the medical dramas and my fears. I even told him that I was certain that given our situation, that my fears were perfectly rational and that I wasn't sure what he could possibly do about them.

     Arrogant, huh?

     He paused and then asked me if my house was in order.

     I told him that yes, I was a bit behind on some things, but having a toddler in the hospital frequently and a six month old had been a bit challenging. I was just a bit snipey about this, but then I scolded myself aloud.

     "I really should pull myself together. If I tried a little harder all of the laundry would be done and everything would be right again."

     And he stopped me there... "Do you have three pairs of clean underwear?"

     What a stupid question. Of course I have three pairs of clean underwear. Its the folded towels sitting on the sofa that need to be put away. It's the baby blankets that should have been put in the box at the top of the closet since it is August...

     Instead I answered stupidly, "Yes."

     "Then everything is going to be okay." He said matter-of-factly. As if he really had not heard a word I had said.

      My eyes may have actually rolled back into my head. I had obviously found the guy who barely made it through school.

     Then he said, "If you have three pairs of clean underwear, the rest can wait. Everything else is extra. You can survive with things being a little bit behind schedule."

     I looked around the office for dead mice, dirt and general mayhem.  Everything seems orderly, but surely this is the advice of a filthy madman.

     I stared back at him blankly.

     "You see, you are spending just as much time worrying about all of the other things that you cannot possibly control. You have to learn to prioritize. Clearly, you have scheduling and self control mastered. Now you need to learn to let go of the extras and get back to basics."

      Some of this made sense, but I was still afraid of the madness. I had been without sleep for days....

      "How about you make a promise to go home from here, take care of the children's needs and get rest. Leave the towels where they are, leave the dishes in the dishwasher, leave everything alone and see what happens when you wake up."

      Now I am clearly beginning to hallucinate. Will little mice come in the middle of the night and put everything away? Will the house explode? What is the punchline? Why on earth would I do that? Clearly I just need to try harder.

       I was too exhausted to fight anymore. I had these three prescriptions. I did as he asked.

       I went home, I fed everyone. I gave everyone a bath. I put everyone in pajamas and once the children were in bed, I took the three little pills and went to bed. There were dishes in the dishwasher, there were books on the table from bedtime stories. The towels were still in a pile on the sofa.

      When I woke up the next morning, I did not find that everything had done itself. I did not find that my house had vanished. Instead, everything was exactly as I had left it.

      Later that day, I calculated how many breaths per day my children had taken. My toddler took an average of 50,000 breaths every day. She had been doing this for a while. Somehow, this thought gave me peace...She took those breaths whether I was watching her or not.

      This helped.

       The towels were not any less useful on the sofa. They were still towels... I took them to the bathroom on my way in the morning.

       I took dishes from the dishwasher to make breakfast. The world did not end because I had not taken them from the cabinet.

       Basically, somehow that suggestion gave me a big, enormous dose of "GET OVER IT".

       I went back to see that psychiatrist one week later. I was sleeping without medication and even though I was no longer planning everything, scheduling everything and most importantly, I no longer felt like I had to watch every single thing. I thanked him.
      He only said this:
      "It was good to work with you. Come back if you ever need any help again. I think you are done with me for now."
       Ahhh.. another fear gone. I was not going to become dependent on a psychiatrist. I had exactly what I needed. Tools to get through that difficult time. I was not going to be part of a long term program. I was part of a catch and release program.
       Mind you. If I need something long term. That is okay. I just have a fear about it. I am afraid that I will run out of tools to cope, to get through things...
       I have been getting the "Three pairs of underwear" message a lot lately. I think I get it.
       I cannot do everything. I cannot cover all of the bases. I need to let go and allow the towels to stack on the sofa for a day or two and just live.
      I get it.
      Everyone here has three pairs of clean underwear, so tomorrow, everything else will just have to be okay without me overseeing it all.
      Good night and God Bless.