Saying goodbye to my therapist is both exciting and frightening
I learned to accept and process anxiety when hemophilia was overwhelming
As my family started contemplating the people and routines we’ll leave behind in our upcoming job change and move, my thoughts turned to one routine in particular: For over 12 years, I’ve visited my therapist regularly. Her support was a beacon of hope in some of the darkest times; she was often my lifeline.
When Caeleb, my youngest son, started experiencing spontaneous joint bleeds because of complications from hemophilia, my therapist’s patience and calm demeanor provided a safe place for me to discuss my boy’s issues. I’m forever grateful for the relief and comfort her lessons brought me.
3 lessons from talk therapy
Lesson 1: Being unable to fix the damage of hemophilia does not mean I’m a terrible father.
Among the roles I play in my family, one is problem solver. If anyone wants something fixed, they come to Dad. I find absolute joy in this role, handling tasks like repairing a doorknob or offering advice to handle difficult situations. To me, there’s no greater joy than finding solutions.
Hemophilia, however, presented itself as a massive foe that I couldn’t defeat. Try as I might, nothing worked to prevent my boy from experiencing horrible pain when an internal bleed started. I felt anxious when he screamed at the top of his lungs because his experience felt horrific. No matter how many jokes I told or Lego sets I bought, when an active bleed began, my son could focus only on his pain.
With my therapist’s help, I embarked on a journey from feeling like a failure to realizing that my boy loved and adored me. My overly self-critical brain had to surrender to the reality that, while I couldn’t take the bleeding episode away from my son, I could sit by his side and try to distract him from how much he hurt.
Caeleb’s screams had nothing to do with my parenting style and everything to do with a bleeding disorder that brought on bouts of intense pain. It didn’t mean I was a rotten father. This journey from self-criticism to self-compassion, a turning point in my life, is a testament to the transformative power of therapy in reshaping our perspectives and attitudes.
Lesson 2: The anger I felt because I couldn’t control Caeleb’s bleeding disorder had nothing to do with my son and everything to do with the fear I felt when I couldn’t infuse him with the required medication to stop his bleeding.
Several of Caeleb’s port-a-caths proved challenging to access. Many times when I pushed the needle through my son’s skin to access the port-a-cath, I failed to find the center. Anxiety instantly rushed through me, overwhelming me to the point of panic. In such moments, the only thought going through my head was that I needed to get the medicine (recombinant factor VIII) into his body — either to stop a bleed or to prevent one from starting.
As I explained the process of my moves from fear to anxiety, my therapist acknowledged that I had a legitimate right to feel frightened. She helped me develop tools to de-escalate my response to such emotions. My therapist gave me the helpful tool of taking a short pause when I felt frightened, challenged, and unable to manage. It’s like the old saying, “Put the emergency mask on your own face first.”
Lesson 3: It’s OK to feel angry and frightened when treatments don’t go as planned. In rough times, offer yourself grace.
While this lesson looks excellent on paper, applying it is extremely difficult. The last person I wanted to offer compassion to was myself. On more than one occasion, I’ve said that my mind is a dangerous neighborhood, and I shouldn’t go through it alone. Thank God, my therapist always reminded me to stop beating myself up. It was time to offer my soul kindness.
My therapist’s approach to self-care changed my life. She challenged me to break through unhealthy cycles of behavior and explore ways that affirmed both my son and me. Her emphasis on self-compassion and grace was a revelation. Fear and anger will happen; they’re sometimes appropriate emotions, and I’m still OK when I feel them.
In such rough times, offering yourself grace isn’t just a suggestion; it’s a necessity. She equipped me with tools to manage my anxiety and fear, such as taking a short pause when things seemed overwhelming. Her compassionate care revolutionized my life and provided critical strategies that served my son and me.
I feel blessed to know her and receive her life-affirming insights into healthy ways to manage Caeleb’s bleeding disorder. While I’ll no longer see her consistently, I’ll forever be in her debt for the many lessons she’s taught me.
Note: Hemophilia News Today is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or another qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of Hemophilia News Today or its parent company, Bionews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to hemophilia.
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