Dr. Therapy and the Heart in My Vagina

I had never been to therapy in my life. I never needed it, right? I mean, I really never had any real reason to go. I had my own biases towards therapy, that it was there for people who had been traumatized, OCD/anxiety disorders, and the general attention seekers. Despite my common biases, I always recommended it to people who were thinking about going. I was a cheerleader of therapy, but I had never played the sport.

Boy did I have a lot of misconceptions.

Going to therapy has probably been the best thing I have done for myself. I started going in October…I’ve been about 8 or so times. You would think it would be super expensive. Well, before you completely count it out because the extra cash isn’t handy…look into it. You never know. It costs me $35 and my first two appointments (each year it resets) are FREE. Holy guacamole, free? Yes.

Why do I love Dr. Therapy? Well mainly because I don’t want to talk about my relationship crap with my friends…the things I write on this blog are not really things I want to have entire conversations with my friends about. I would rather ask them what they’ve been up to, tell each other funny stories, and enjoy each other. Every time I do talk about this stuff with them, I don’t feel very good afterward. When I write about it here, I feel…fantastic. When I tell Dr. Therapy, I feel…rewarded.

We talk about whatever I want to talk about. And today…I had a mini-epiphany. We talked mainly about my meeting of the ex, my overal general happiness (as of lately), and then it came out…I started talking about my father. Who I have written a bit about on here, but I’ve barely scratched the surface.

I talked about how we have no relationship ever since he got angry at me for getting my wisdom teeth taken out and he didn’t want to pay for it. “Do you know how much money I send your mother every month?,” he said coldly. Dr. Therapy said that my relationships with men may not be so far removed from my relationship with my father. Oh, I didn’t want to hear that, but I knew it was true.

I want my dad to reach out to me. To make it up to me. To pay, in a way. I know that’s “not right.” But that’s how I feel. Especially after he said that to me and when I started crying (because I had no idea how to react), and he just responded with, “I don’t know why you are crying.”

Well. Let’s just see here. The mini-epiphany: When it comes to men, if I feel hurt by them, I shut down. I still have never forgiven him for that. His apology was weak. But I know I have to get over it.

I bet you are wondering, ok lady…why is the title of this post “Dr. Therapy and the Heart in My Vagina.”

While chatting it up with Dr. Therapy today, spilling the beans about my dad and my man issues, I remembered something.

A dream I had that I wrote down.

October 20, 2009

She told me in a dream that I had father issues. That my vagina has a heart. That I yearn for human contact, connection, unconditional love.

It was so vivid that I wrote it down. I laughed at it. I thought having a heart in my vagina was really funny metaphor. Why was she telling me this? And who was telling me this? Myself.

The father issues, check. The heart in my vagina is what I’m trying to protect with The Vow, so yup got that! And human contact, connection and unconditional love is why I love this blog and appreciate my friends and family even more every day.

And now here I am telling myself, again. Talk to your father. And I’ll have my chance on February 25. That side of my family is heading to the land of the longhorns for my grandma’s 85th birthday. We’ll see if I confront my father issues then…but the time has to be right. I will let you know how that goes.

Yours therapeutically,



4 thoughts on “Dr. Therapy and the Heart in My Vagina

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  3. Pingback: When shit hits the fan, bed, and couch « 25 single white female

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