On occasion, I hang up from my weekly Zoom call with my therapist and wonder if I’m her most annoying patient. Some days I’ve analyzed myself so much before our session event starts that it probably feels like I’m trying to do her job for her. Other days, I’ve been running so fast I that I’ve fallen out of sync with myself, barely know what I’m feeling, and have a million different things racing through my head. On those days, I basically just throw up all over her.

Recently, we had one of those days. I was out of sync, and what came out in therapy was a list of things I’m frustrated about, including, “It feels like I’m going to be stuck here forever.” Like any good therapist, she promptly asked me why it felt that way.

I’ve stayed stuck before. I’ve put up with situations and relationships that weren’t good for me. I’ve hesitated to have hard conversations because I don’t know what will happen when they’re over. I get used to the status quo and then don’t question it. Even when we’re not fully satisfied with our lives, there’s something about familiarity that’s comforting.

In the past, I’ve also let fear control my decisions, and it’s cost me time. I don’t want to lose more. “It feels like if I don’t jerk the steering wheel, I’m going to be driving down this same road forever,” I told her.  

Funny thing is, I’m finally on road I’m happy with. Not that long ago, I was careening down a road lined with one nightmare after the other, seemingly headed toward the forest of no return. It’s a long story that I won’t go into now, but I got off that road.

And now, I’m puttering down a road of recovery. Like I said, it’s a good road, and I’m happy here. I’m making friends, building perspective, and letting go of things that were holding me back. I’m gaining things as I travel down this road, and the nightmares that are now in my rearview mirror remind me how much I have to be grateful for. But did I mention, I’m puttering? Or at least, that’s what it feels like.

Cue me telling my therapist that I worry if I don’t’ jerk the steering wheel, this road will be the rest of my life. Ten years from now I’ll still be “working toward” fixing relationships or “finding” the courage to tell my story. Or worse, I’ll be realizing that it’s too late to have hard conversations because the people I need to talk to aren’t around anymore.

I’ve only been seeing my therapist for a few months, but that’s long enough for her to have learned that I’m impatient—at least with myself (honestly, she probably had that one nailed in our first two sessions). I’ll give you all the grace and patience you need, but when it comes to looking in the mirror, I expect myself to have things figured out, fixed, and accomplished yesterday, or more likely, months ago. The fact that I’ve been on this road for longer than a month must clearly mean that I’m not doing enough.

It sounds silly when I spell it all out like this, but that’s the benefit of hindsight. In my throw-up-my-frustrations therapy session, my fear of going too slowly or of being stuck here forever felt very real. And somedays, even with perspective, it still does. On those days, I remember what my therapist told me: “Small adjustments to the steering wheel still move the car.”

I knew when I said it that jerking the steering wheel would cause a crash. I’ve seen it happen. I’ve actually picked up the debris caused by others jerking the wheel in their lives. I’ve been collateral damage in their crashes. But to someone who feels like they need to take action, to fix things, to figure it all out, small movements don’t feel like enough.  

So, I’m learning to be patient with the process. When I feel like I haven’t done enough, I remind myself of all the “little” things I’m discounting. Going back to therapy. Connecting with women from church, even though I originally didn’t want to. Ending my involvement with toxic people. Writing, if even in limited amounts, about my experiences. Identifying my weaknesses and recognizing when they’re driving my decisions or dictating my emotional state.

To me, these feel like small things. But my therapist is right*. They’re changing the trajectory of my life. I’m becoming a different person—it’s just not happening overnight. Because it’s not supposed to.

So, wherever you’re at in your life, I invite you to join me in being patient with the process. Extend to yourself the same patience and grace that you would a child or good friend. When you look in the mirror and are tempted to criticize yourself for not having done enough fast enough, consider the things you have done. Write them on your mirror if you need to so you’ll see them every day.

Even if it’s one thing, that one thing can lead to movement. And for where you’re at right now, one thing may be enough. No one is keeping score. You’re not on anyone’s clock but your own. Just keep puttering on down the road, make small adjustments when you need, and whatever you do, don’t jerk the freakin’ steering wheel.

*My therapist told me that when I eventually write a book, she wants a commission. For now, thank you will have to do: Thank you S.B.

Photo by emrecan arık on Unsplash

  1. Thank you Jessie, makes me think what defines us. Sometimes we get stuck in pain. Very encouraging blog.