A Minute to Myself (155)
A Minute to Myself (156)

One Day, Seven Kinds of Therapy

Good Mother Therapy: On Saturday morning I took my daughter to her basketball game; it was the first game in the post-season playoffs. She played her BFF’s team, and they lost by one point after a very close game (they lost to them last week by more than 20 points). Except for grabbing the ball, I love watching the determination and skill of those 12- and 13-year old girls on the court. After the game I took my daughter and her best friend and another good friend from the “opposing” team out for ice cream and then a day of going back and forth between homes and activities.

This lovely “I am a good mother” morning was negated when my older daughter repeatedly banged on my wall screaming at me to lower the volume of the live opera I was listening to on the radio after I had cranked it up all the way (on a clock radio mind you, so it’s not too loud) to drown out exman yelling at me through my locked door that he would file something against me because I stole his things. (See below.)

Clean House Therapy: The realtor suggested cleaning out the basement storage area and the mudroom. So that’s what I did. I moved bags of old clothes, toys and books to donate and rearranged exman’s boxes so that they would be placed on shelves and not on the floor making the whole place a mess, and putting his shirts (that he just threw down there) into plastic bags. There were only two boxes of my things there, which I didn’t realize I had, since I moved everything to storage when we put the house up for sale and agreed that we would move our things out of the basement and into storage to make it look less crowded. He, of course, moved his things right back into the basement storage area instead of out of the house and into storage.

I got a lot done and was feeling good about it, but I still hadn’t found the dead mouse that could be sniffed down there when exman came home and got into a tirade that I was stealing his things. I dropped the box of things I was about to put into the garbage so that he could inspect it and went into my room not wanting to deal with what I knew would be coming. Not only did I not steal his things but his things mainly comprise boxes and boxes of papers that he brought with us when we moved from Israel and he has not opened since putting them into those boxes more than eight years ago. Apparently there are amazing contracts that he wrote in Hebrew in those boxes which, I am sure, are useless in the US and useless because he hasn’t worked as an attorney since we came to the US.

There he was with his recorder friend again at my door screaming about theft but by that time I had turned the radio up and was listening to Il Trovatore.

Read Therapy: At that point I turned to read therapy. Unfortunately in the past few weeks I have not liked any of the books I took from the library. Too many conversations that were too dull, too many characters who were too cliché or perhaps not enough since they didn’t get or hold my interest in them and the vicissitudes of their lives, too many missing insights, too many dull phrasings. How come they get their books published and I don’t get mine, was the overriding thought, which surely was not a therapeutic thought.

Cry Therapy: From there I moved onto cry therapy. But I’m not hurt, I’m frustrated and angry, which doesn’t bring up soothing tears, just more frustrated and angry thoughts.

Sleep Therapy: So I turned to a lovely standard, the midday nap. But I was too riled up to release and relax. It would have been nice to roll around in my love seat and empty into emptiness, but there was too much stuff in my head.

Shop Therapy: This started out as drive therapy but then I realized that I really do need to get some pants that fit my thighs. And since my tax refund check arrived (I am quite proud of myself for filing so early), I figured that I could splurge for a few essentials, but not much since the rest will be my short-term rent-a-basement money. So into Kohl’s I went because they have the Lee pants that understand that some real women have thighs.

This therapy worked well because while there were some pants that still didn’t fit my thighs and I did have to face my stomach which is flabbier than it was last time I looked six months ago, my mind was totally focused on the hunt. Looking for what I needed and trying to find it. It was escapism. I ended up escaping with two pairs of pants (not black, which is all I had that still fit), undies, socks, and a towel. Yes, a new bath towel for me. It is my first new towel, all of the ones I have been using are old “family” towels, but this one, this one is mine (I’ll need to hide it from my daughters to keep it that way).

When I was done shopping there I went to Nordstrom’s Rack, hopeful for a bargain. But there was none to be had. But it continued the time that I could focus on the hunt and search and not the ridiculous situation of my life, or even to think of my life. From there I had something to eat, but I did not overeat so I will not mention food therapy as one of the forms of therapy that I sought, although I did eat too many brownies when I got home, it was not excessive.

Flannel Pajama Therapy: This last therapy was the most soothing therapy. It could be because the pajamas just came out of the dryer and had that wonderfully warm, clingy feeling that soothed me perfectly at the end of my day. And what is therapy for if not to soothe you?

What kind of therapies have you tried lately?


Liz A.

Bath and shower therapy, with BBW tranquil mint body wash. Terry cloth bathrobe therapy, Cracker Barrel therapy, chick flick with wine with cheese and crackers therapy...or drinking entirely too much and passing out therapy, not so healthy.


I have gone with the so-busy-I-can't-breathe therapy...it works sometimes.


Music always soothes my soul, but try getting a set of headphones. If they don't know you are enjoying some nice music, they won't try to spoil it by yelling and banging.
Smile - it drives everyone nuts! No matter where I go, if there are negative people around they always want to know what I'm so happy about. My answer, "I woke up this morning and I was breathing and I could stand up and move - considering the alternative, it's a wonderful day!"
Mostly, I hope you can find a suitable space of your own soon because then you won't need all these therapies.


Have just woken from my nap therapy. My favorite besides chocolate therapy.


Rocknyc is rocking with her advice this week! I believe that would absolutely drive him CRAZY....smile and sweetly say.."are you okay?"....no matter what you feel inside....OY..he will go nuts...LOL

Twenty Four At Heart

Music is a great cure for many things!


Ah, I may be missing something, but what reason on earth does he have to want the house to sell? He has someone else to clean things, someone else pays the mortgage (if I am following this at all), someone else to do the parenting, he has the best room--just what is his motivation to sell the house?


Sorry about your "Good mother" therapy ending up like that! I know the feeling! I had a rather rotten weekend with all the family at home. So yesterday afternoon I retreated to my bedroom for my "music&nap" therapy (with ipod, so nobody was disturbed)which lasted only 20 minutes as my "cannot stand" when I sleep! Life is unfair. All the best. Ciao. A.

Laura of Rebellious Thoughts of a Woman

Liz, all except the last are lovely forms of therapy. I think passing out defeats the purpose of feeling better about yourself, unless forgetting about yourself is the goal.

morethananelectrician, that is certainly a good way not to think about what you would rather not think about, but is it really therapy? Or is that how boys do therapy?

rockync, headphones. Maybe I'll enter the 21st century and get an ipod or mp3 player for myself. I would really love to listen to Il Trovatore again with more subtlety than a clock radio allows.

Smile, I don't know if this comes across here with all the angst, but I am a smile at everyone sort of person, even on the street. I greet my students at the door with a hello and a smile, but I will certainly try to maintain that after the first five minutes of class and the first discovery of non something. Regarding smiling and being friendly to him, that is beyond my capability; I'd rather keep dealing with the consequences.

I am so looking forward to life being the therapy that soothes me and does not need soothing.

JC, two excellent forms of therapy.

24, music indeed does it. When I'm in my own personal space (that would be my car) I generally crank it up and just drive in the music zone.

ianthe, he does pay half of the mortgage although he doesn't pay the utilities (he is supposed to pay 50%). And if I leave when I am still obliged to pay, then there will really be no reason for him to sell, but I am too far gone to care about that, I need to care about me now. I'm calling a new lawyer this week to see if she/he can help.

Antonella, sorry you had a bad weekend too. But surely the music&nap was a good pause in the activities.

Yesterday afternoon was her second basketball game of the playoff season and she played really well. At one point she looked over to me and I gave her a big smile and a thumbs up, her smile lit up her face. That was true "good mother" therapy because it came from her. (They won, so the season continues.)


"I need to care about me now. I'm calling a new lawyer this week to see if she/he can help."

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