My colleague, Ariel Stern, shared this with me awhile ago: Some fights help couples grow and some fights cause irrevocable damage. It’s not the fight that is the problem, it’s how the fight happens.
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I’ve wanted to be a therapist my entire life. I honestly can’t remember a time when I thought about doing anything else. My parents love to tell stories about how, even as a little girl, I would pull up a chair when they argued and explain to them what they needed to do to solve their conflicts.
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It’s easy to fall into the trap of cliched New Year’s resolutions: lose weight, save more, drink less, exercise, get rid of the 748,923 New Yorkers collecting dust under your coffee table that you swore you would read before you made last year’s resolution. I want to offer you an alternative.
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Here is what I remember about her:
She ate salami, watched baseball on tv and swore fluently. She visited infrequently, even though she lived less than 30 miles away, and when she did come over, our house seemed to stiffen its spine.
When I conjure her image, I am not in the scene.
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This blog is bound to contain a lot of material you probably have found in other mommy blogs: Tales of extreme fatigue, piles of laundry, leaky boobs, spasmodic tears, weight gain, baby blues, hormonal rages. If the subjects are familiar, however, it is because these maternal miseries are so universal. My hope is that by sharing my experience, some of you will find comfort in knowing that there are others out there who are muddling through this adventure and at times, feeling just as overwhelmed.
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