Therapy

My only experience with formal therapy was after my Dad died.  Mom thought it would be a good idea for me to see someone.  For whatever reason, it didn't make sense to me.  The guy asked me how I was feeling, and I'm like, "Pretty sad because my Dad just died."  I didn't end up going back.

35 years later, I've certainly had my share of ups and downs.  I have a long list of therapists, but none of them are professionally licensed.  My brother.  My wife.  My Italian fratelli.  My kids.  And more recently, my gym friends.

There's one guy who has taken about a year to warm up.  Now, the conversation flows easily.  Every day, he comments on how beautiful today is, which is a perspective I share.

This morning, I'm not sure how we got there, but I overheard him talking to another friend about how it's taken him 20 years to get over the fact that he's killed men, women, and children.  He has valor commendations and a presidential unit citation, and recalls being behind President Bush when the citation was being delivered.

He grew up in a world of violence.  "The first time I was shot, I was six years old."  Think about that phrase for a second.  The first time?  Six?  For me, that's unimaginable.  My kids know nothing of that world, and I'm so thankful for that.  He said when he had his own children, he couldn't stop thinking about the children he had killed, how he was snuffing out someone else's dreams and love.

"I've always been around violence.  Then, it's what I was trained to do.  And I'm good at it.  I came in as the lowest private and left as a captain, if that tells you anything about my violence level."  Wow.  I'm just not around people with that kind of back story.

Now, he lives as a man of peace.  "I'm happy with my mental state now, so I don't want to think too much about the past."  That's why every day is beautiful for him.  It's a perspective I share, not borne of violence, but from a place of understanding that our time here is so fleeting, and we need to savor the time we have and be present to the people around us.

It's really the most important thing.  Sometimes, when I go to the gym, I get a great workout.  Sometimes I talk about eldercare with my gym friends.  Sometimes I spend an hour talking about loss with a friend whose dog died, and who has never really experienced personal loss before.  And sometimes I learn a lot about people whose experiences are far outside my frame of reference.

Taking care of each other - it's the most important thing.  And I'd argue that finding a way to get the therapy you need is crucial, formal or informal, it doesn't really matter.  I feel lucky that I have informal therapists by my side, and the decades of shared experiences that enrich and deepen the palette of our relationship.