Get In the Canoe

Hi, my name is Rebekah, and I’m in therapy. My life’s pros and cons list is probably much more balanced than most peoples’, but I still have a fair share of hurt and dysfunction to work through. As I got older, I realized that healing my soul would be a process and the pot at the end of the therapy rainbow would be an adult that wasn’t ruining relationships and missing out on joy because she was carrying around a big box of shittyness, guilt, shame, self loathing, and the like.

I’ve been going to Jan – is it creepy that my mother’s name is Jann? – for almost half a year now, but it feels like I just started yesterday. I honestly had very little clue as to how much bad juju I had and how I was letting it negatively affect me in many sad ways. All of these outer manifestations of some seriously fucked thinking started to unveil themselves and each one broke my heart: my weight, my friendships, my romantic relationships, why I chose what I chose, why I don’t have what I don’t have. I’m very well aware that each nanosecond we’re on the planet is a gift. With the infinite opportunities for bliss given to each human, I’ve always felt a little like “this world is too good for me, I am such a naughty girl.” But really, when we’ve got it together and love ourselves like we should, “we’re too good for this world.” But that’s another story.

Back to the issue at hand – this canoe I speak of. Jan throws out some seriously badass analogies during our sessions, and these analogies are usually the most poignant words I encounter during my entire week. Thus, I think about them until the next session, when I’m given a new and better one to play with.

The first was the painter’s scaffolding. Because I was given no foundation or structure (or security, I could go on for years), I’ve built my own. The structure is that of a scaffolding with levels connected by crossbeams. It’s not ideal, but it serves its purpose and has elevated me from rickety stage to rickety stage. Scaffolding isn’t meant to bear tons of weight. It is meant to be a temporary structure that comes down when the job is done. Unfortunately, because my parents quit their jobs, my job is never done. Cool, eh?

I’ll give you one more before I get to the canoe – the buoy. I love me some nautical imagery, so I was all about the buoy. According to Wikipedia, the end all be all of reference sources, “A buoy is a floating device that can have many different purposes. It can be anchored (stationary) or allowed to drift.” Despite some rough seas, I’ve managed to keep myself above water. I’ve borne the weight of some hugeass sea lions, bobbed around in stormy weather, and still haven’t sunk. I’m a hollow steel structure floating on a constantly moving and changing life mass that I have no control over. Deeeeeep breath.

This week, I was given the canoe to play with. This one is probably my favorite so far because it is the most hopeful. So, I’ve built a canoe. We all know that I’m no stranger to a little hard work. I can do the brain work, the manual labor, climb to the top of a big pink rock, listen sincerely and give useful advice, be a star student/employee/member/daughter/friend, earn degrees and certifications in record time, carry all fifty-six of my HEB bags to a third-floor apartment in one trip, YES! I can do it all and do it impressively. Big fucking whoop. Who really gives a shit? Not me. At least not for long.

So all of this effort I exert is somewhat pointless. I’ve worked hard to build this canoe. I have hated myself for every part of the canoe that isn’t perfect. I’ve cried, bled, sweat, lost sleep, lost my mind, and almost lost a few fingers building this motherfucker, and I won’t get in it. Instead, I keep walking the perimeter finding things to fix, anticipating parts of it that will break in the future, judging it, and second-guessing every swing of the hammer. Jan says I need to get in my canoe. She says it’s a really nice canoe. She says that the canoe that I have as of this very moment is not only adequate, but it’s pretty awesome. She says that I don’t have to stay in this exact canoe forever, but that instead of trashing my current canoe, killing myself to make it the perfect canoe, or starting to build my yacht, I might try something new and get in this one. It’s not perfect, but it’s good.

It’s not perfect, but it’s good.