I've been making progress of sorts in a few parts of my life, so I figure it's time to share.
Most important progress prize goes to my knitting. I've finished my River for my grandmother, and will block it this weekend. This is well in advance of my deadline.
I've also managed to knit it well (well, I *think* I have). Compared to my first, moderately flawed River, the new one is a thing of beauty. (I may re-knit the old one, since I feel dodgy about wearing such a poorly-knit lace wrap now.)
This means I've had time to do a bit more on Martha, my much-neglected cotton beaded cardigan. (More about this at Summeralong
Most excruciating progress prize is a tie... between having to discipline my junior at work, and decide if I think she should get the slightly speccced-up version of her job; and deciding I don't like therapy with our therapist anymore.
The work situation is tough, and I've discussed my options at great, great length with many people. What it comes down to is that - in spite of a cushy environment and great supervisor who is willing to give chances and be supportive etc. - she doesn't cut the mustard. If she doesn't get the job she'll be crushed. But of she does she could really cock things up.
And did I mention I get to be on the interview panel? Fun... notsomuch.
The deal with the therapist is pretty simple. She and The Trouser are old mates, and she helped him through a very difficult time when he had CFS and was very depressed. One on one, she is fine. But when we have sessions as a couple - which is what we've been doing for a while, and is what we need - she isn't much help.
It's complicated, and there are a range of behaviours she exhibits that make me unhappy, but it's the double standards that have been making me feel uneasy since day 1.
Say she asks us a question, and we both feel the same way. Here's what happens:
I express myself well and strongly, and her response is to tell me what I am doing wrong. No encouragement for the good things I do, no validation of my (very wounded) feelings, just negative feedback about what I do wrong.
The Trouser, who expresses himself well but with more prodding, gets only positive feedback about how his feelings must be tremendously hurt. No suggestions for where he is doing the wrong thing.
The irony of the situation is that The Trouser is generally fairly okay with the situations. We're going to therapy because *I'm* not okay with it, and *I* need help. Instead, I feel like I'm paying someone to not listen to/ not hear me, and to give me feedback couched in negative terms.
Hey, I could get that for free from a wide range of people, I don't need to pay
So the conclusion I've come to is that I won't go back to see her. I will attend if The Trouser wants me to come to personal sessions (since that's what she's clearly interested in), but no more couples stuff.
I know, I could tell her how I feel. But she has eroded my trust to the point where I feel it's futile to tell her how I feel, because I don't trust her to listen to me, show empathy, or validate how I feel anyway - why would this situation be any different? If she didn't respond in what i feel is a caring manner, I would feel even more betrayed: not just as a therapist, but as someone who is supposed to be our friend. And if that happens, I think it will screw up how The Trouser and she relate - which I don't want.
Least interesting progress is that I'm still managing the gym. I was even so bold as to buy a second sports bra yesterday (50% off, it seemed wrong not to), so now I've spent even more money on exercise stuff, so I feel obliged to exercise and not waste the cash. (Incidentally, it's the new Bendon one, and ignore what the NZ Herald
says, if it comes in your size it does a great job.)
I'd like to make more wedding-related progress, like finding some shoes I'd like to wear (7 1/2 cm heel tops, strappy, leather, comfortable yet delicate, pale colours, if you have any suggestions!). I'd like to clean out all our crap so we have less of it, and will have less to move. And on, and on, and on. But I'm on my way...