Today I'm grateful for my therapist, Tiffany (with the good hair). I call her that because, truth be told, I misjudged her in the beginning. Finding a therapist here in the good ol' South proved itself to be just as challenging as anticipated, and I'd all but given up before sending an email out to Tiffany, in a moment of sheer desperation, even though I one hundred percent judged her based on her large (and perfect) blonde hair and the bold cross necklace proudly displayed in her Psychology Today photo. Please note, this is not a knock on Christians (or blondes, for the record). It's simply that...a therapist needs to fit with you in order to have a good relationship, and I all too quickly assumed we just wouldn't fit. But I went anyway, and I'm glad. Because, like most snap judgments, mine was wrong. She's the perfect fit.
Anyway, I'm especially grateful to her today because I brought one of my...less proud traits to the table. I was fully honest with her about the feeling of reckless impulsivity that bubbles beneath the surface quite often in life, just waiting to be let out. She asked what it has transpired as in the past, to which I promptly responded with my cliff jumping habit I developed in California. "Oh, hmm...yeah. Probably not the best. Not the worst! But...you know, make sure someone else jumps first. Test to see if it's safe," she replied.
She asked me how it felt, the plummet into the cold waters of the Pacific, joining my shark friends with reckless abandon. I told her I always felt...liberated. Maybe I'm an adrenaline junkie, or a thrill seeker. I told her how, my entire childhood felt like I lived in a box, being kept from any and all danger due to my illness, like I was some fragile thing. I told her that my first experience outside of the box was at eighteen years old, when I got mixed up with someone who was a total thrill seeker in life. He too lived his life with reckless impulsivity, and I got to go along for the ride. And let me tell you, it was the first time I felt alive in life. And it was addicting.
Flash forward, and she tells me that my current life is a lot like going back into the box. There are many rules and regulations. So much structure it's stifling. So it's only natural to crave something chaotic and impulsive, for someone like me. Someone like me, she says. Oof. Problem child much. My family thrives best on schedules and structure, on home life and introversion, whereas I live to be around others, to do things "just because" or "for the hell of it"... and trying to fit into the box I've built around me has only further increased anxiety and, yes, the need for explosive impulsivity.
So Tiffany (yes, with the good hair) drew some diagram on a mini whiteboard showing me that I need to bring more "spontaneity" into my life, to not only live to serve others, but to give to myself, and to be willing to see my need for, yeah, we'll go with spontaneity (sounds better than impulsivity), not as a bad thing, but simply as a part of who I am and a piece of what my soul needs to feel alive. She helped me see the area between where I'd ideally live a balanced life (a nice little mix of order and chaos), and the point of my explosion (jumping solo off a cliff into the ocean for the rush) and identify how it feels. Figure out when the need for excitement arises before it hits the breaking point. It's that space I'm in now, the in between. Antsy and searching for something to scratch that impulsive itch.
Now, here comes the fun part (and the part I'm most grateful for, yet also most intimidated by). I have to find small things in life that I can be mindful in, in order to bring me back to the present moment, as well as smaller things I can do to...release the pressure on the pressure cooker a little. Feed the desire for impulsivity intentionally, as opposed to giving in to it in a moment of surrender and desperation.
So this is where we get to the point of all of this: Intentional Impulsivity. I am, by nature, a creature who craves chaos. I never wanted a picket fence or bake sales, PTA meetings or a mini van. I craved (and still desire) a life of adventure, and spontaneity. A life filled with art and music and laughter and primal screaming into the ether (you know, if the mood suits). And according to Tiffany, this can, in fact, be done intentionally AND it can be done in my current life (meaning, no need to run away to an undisclosed tropical location and start life under a new name). I just have to find windows and ways in which to bring intentional chaos. A little impulsivity never hurt anyone.
And, according to her, the worst case is I do, in fact, hit the explosion point...and go find a cliff to jump off of. Which, at the end of the day, isn't the worst thing. As long as there's water to catch me.
Go find a window of reckless impulsivity. Remind yourself that you're alive.
-Dominique
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