Bejewell on June 27th, 2008

I’m not afraid to admit it — I see a therapist.  Well, really he’s a counselor. Well, actually, a marriage counselor.  And okay, I don’t exactly “see” him — it’s more like every few years the Big Bean and I get to a point where either I’m going to kill him or he’s going to kill me and since we both love each other just a *little* bit more than we want to see each other dead, we call in a third party to help us with that. 

  • Side note:  I’m not sure why I call it therapy except that it sounds way more COOL than marriage counseling.  Marriage counseling sounds like you’re headed for the Big D (Divorce, not Dallas) and I don’t really like the idea of that, and lots of people are in therapy on TV and in the movies, like Uma Thurman and Barbra Streisand and Tony Soprano (yes, I know he’s not a real person) and I want to be Just Like Them.

So anyway… we saw this guy, Dr. D, for a few sessions about seven or eight years ago.  We really liked him right off the bat because he said “shit” during our first appointment – at which point we both gasped and looked at each other like “He just said a bad word” and we just knew that this was a match.  

 Plus, he wasn’t cheesy (break out the hand puppets on us and we’re gonna eat you ALIVE) and he was pretty good at not letting one of us (okay, ME) railroad the conversation, which normally I wouldn’t like at all but even I have to admit that it’s probably good to let the Big Bean get a word in edgewise when we’re trying to Work On Our Relationship.  But only then.

Dr. D helped us back then and we moved on to bigger and better problems.  Which brings us to today.

Lately we’ve had trouble not murdering each other communicating and the subject has come up more than once that maybe it would be a good idea to get an outside opinion.  But mostly it’s just been used as an empty threat because it’s really an inconvenient endeavor, getting everyone’s schedules straight and everything, plus it’s fairly expensive and one of our problems is money so you do the math.

So basically we’ve just been killing time, arguing over the Big Bean’s schedule and his obsession with working out and my obsession with NOT working out and money and debt and Who Does the Most Around the House and sniping and nitpicking each other to death and threatening each other with therapy.  Yeah.  It’s been fun.

But then the other night, the Big Bean fell asleep on the couch and woke up around 1:30AM and came to bed but I was fast asleep, completely spread out, right in the middle, with our menagerie of animals surrounding me.  He stood there for a minute, not sure if he should wake me up to move or just go back to the couch.  At least, that’s his story. I’m not so sure.

Either way, I woke up to find the Big Bean standing over me in the dark with a pillow in his hand, and that’s when I knew I should probably make the appointment.

So I did, and we went this morning, and it felt good, like we were actually DOING something to try and fix these wanting to murder each other communication issues of ours instead of just marking time while things got worse.  Don’t get me wrong, we’re not actually headed for prison for murder the Big D – we’re both Lifers here.  But it sure is easy to let the little things build up and build up and build up until everything just explodes in this melee of ugliness and then things get said (or yelled) that shouldn’t and you can’t take that shit back, you know.  Not really.

And besides, I really do LUUUUURVVV the Big Bean (no matter how much smack I might talk about him) and I know he loves me and for the most part we’re happy and enjoy each other’s company and have fun and laugh together.  We have a long history of Happy, and now we’ve got this great Bean added into the mix which just makes it all the more Worth It.  A few counseling sessions every seven years or so seems like a small price to pay for that.

  • Another side note:  I just went back and counted and there are 11 paragraphs before this one (although most of them are really just run-on sentences because that’s how I roll).  So a total of 12 paragraphs it has taken me to get to the point of the whole story.  I will be amazed if anyone has actually stayed with me this far.  Bless your heart if you have, you must be really bored or have your own set of issues.  I’ll get to the point now.\

To make a long story short (I crack myself up), while we were in our session I was going on (and on and on – have you noticed I tend to do that?) about how the Big Bean attacks instead of argues and how when he does that I am just overcome with the urge to run and hide because I don’t want to deal with it.  So I just SHUT DOWN and can’t speak or fight back because I’m so angry and upset I can’t even DEAL.

And Dr. D says, “I’m really surprised at that.  You don’t seem like the kind of person who would react that way.  Probably because you have so much chutzpah.”

I was completely derailed.  I never really came back again after that.  For the rest of the session, all I could think was He said I have chutzpah.  Even with the Big Bean sitting there next to me, telling another person how Irresponsible and Horrible I am (my interpretation), which normally would hold my COMPLETE attention, there was a running buzz in the back of my head – chutzpah chutzpah chutzpah – and I would tell myself to focus but I just kept thinking about that WORD.   

I’ve heard it a million times before but I really don’t know what it means… Isn’t it a Jewish term? Where do “Jewish terms” come from – the Torah? Or are they just Hebrew words in general and not religious at all?  How do you spell chutzpah? Doesn’t it mean balls?  Did Dr. D just say that I have balls? Is Dr. D Jewish? Why does anyone care if someone is Jewish or not?  Focus, bejewell, focus.

I barely made it through the rest of the hour.  Got out, headed straight for the office and my good friend Dictionary.com, or as I like to call him, Dick.    And according to old Dick, the definition of the word chutzpah is this:   

1.  unmitigated effrontery or impudence; gall

2.  audacity; nerve

Sounds like balls to me!  And it’s true, I DO have balls — ginormous, imposing, majestic, hard-as-nails balls, and I’m proud of them.  Of course, Dick makes it sound like a bad thing, but I know that my woman balls are a good thing, and I know that Dr. D knows that, too.  

Overall, I’m feeling pretty good about therapy.

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25 Responses to “My Therapist Says I Have Chutzpah”

  1. Not a thing in the world wrong with a woman having balls. I hope that I have Chutzpah! Great blog!

  2. Shalom to you and your chutzpah!

    Oh and I want you to know, having a mommy who is fluent in Hebrew and Yiddish, I just spit all over my screen trying to pronounce that correctly!

    You gotta sound like you are hawking (how the hell do you spell that anyhow) a loogey – like HUTZ but get some throat action going.

    Huuuuutzpah!

    There, I did it again. Now where’s the windex?

  3. You are being featured on Five Star Friday:
    http://www.fivestarfriday.com/.....on-12.html

  4. “Either way, I woke up to find the Big Bean standing over me in the dark with a pillow in his hand, and that’s when I knew I should probably make the appointment.”

    I seriously laughed so hard when I read that I think my upstairs neighbor probably thinks I’m snorting laughing gas down here. Holy crap that is hilarious! I think it’s pretty damn cool that ya’ll do that. And even cooler that you are writing about it! It’s refreshing. Most of the “mommy blogs” that I come across talk about their perfect little worlds where nothing ever goes wrong and we all know that ain’t true. We all have issues that we need to deal with sometimes!

    Sorry for the novel. Now tell us where your keys were damnit! :)

  5. I love the way that you write. I totally read the entire thing- couldn’t stop if I wanted to. :)
    Way to go on finding a healthy way to work through those “communication issues”, and for having all of that chutzpah. You go girl!

  6. Well it is nice to know that somebody besides me sometimes has a hard time not murdering COMMUNICATING to their hubby.

  7. Just popped over her via Nandango – great blog and wonderful story. Just wanted to add that chutzpah is more sassy and fabulous than “impudence” or “effrontery” suggests.

    Take it from a real Jew – it’s ballsy plus style with smarts.

    From what I’ve read so far – you got it!

  8. I loved everything about this post…from a complete outsider point of view, of course….I have never have murderous thoughts about my beloved spouse ;-)

    Incidentally, my husband’s doctor just called his former employer a “f**ng bastard”. We liked that a lot.

    I’m with Carolina Girl…where were the keys?

  9. Chutzpuh (didi I spell that right) aside, you are my hero! As someone who has been married 10+ years, we definately have our issued and have often talked about counseling, but have never actually done anything about it for various reasons, I’m sure, you’ve had. Kudos for going thru with it!

  10. Chutzpuh! Imagine if that’s what they said during the “step on the glass whatever ceremony” (for lack of a better name). I bet nobody would need marriage counseling if that is what happened.

    Congratulations on your new balls!

  11. I loved your rambling style.
    Next time I’m bashing myself for raving on too long about something, I’ll think of you. :)

  12. I’ve never been married…I’ve lived with them and then left them, sans the legal wrangling and haggling, but with every ounce of emotion and loss one would feel had lawyers been involved.

    All relationships require work and effort and refresher courses. This is true whether or not there are rings on appropriate fingers.

    Therapy is good for you. It’s revealing in every sense of the word and your therapist is right–you have chutzpah, but “unmitigated gall” it ain’t. In your case, it’s just balls. Same with me, Sister.

    OK, well maybe not balls. Let’s just say broads like us where our ovaries VERY LOW.

    Good stuff my Fellow Texan…good stuff.
    LK

  13. Chutzpah rocks. Even more so when you’re the one that has it! I think its great that you and your other half are seeking outside opinions. Sometimes its so easy to get wrapped up in our own thing that you lose sight of the other person’s perspective. A third, impartial party can definitely help you see things in a different light. Keep it up…you’re relationship will thank you for it.

    PS – If my wife and I ever decide to seek some professional help, my first question when interviewing potential therapists will now be “Do you say shit or what?

  14. There were so many things I loved about this post….it would seriously take me 12 paragraphs just to tell you all the things I loved about it.

    And I love your chutzpah.

    (did I spell that right??)

  15. Awesome! It kept me thoroughly entertained so thanks for sharing!

  16. still cracking up… about not murdering him.

    that’s not about divorce, it’a about choosing to luv him
    (because love isn’t a feeling, it’s a choice)… and anyone who’s been married for more than 5 minutes- knows the difference.

    thanks for the laugh…

  17. OK. If you talk like you write
    1) very descriptive
    2) very fluent
    3) coherent
    4) copiously
    5) Personally, I enjoyed it, but maybe BIG BEAN thinks you talk TOO much.
    6) That’s what husbands say when what they really mean is: STOP BREATHING
    7) chutzpa =AIN’T GONNA TAKE NO SHIT AND I’M GONNA RAM THIS THING (whatever) DOWN YOUR THROAT.

  18. thebenevolentdictator
    July 2nd, 2008 at 9:36 pm

    Balls, baby. I love it.

    Your blog is really getting good…you seem to be getting quite a lot of traffic, a good thing. I need to do some work on mine, for sure.

  19. A friend of mine directed me to your blog because we had just been having a conversation about our husbands and how dense they are sometimes. It was nice to see how another married couple handled these things and still found humor in it. Thanks.

  20. take it from a jewish girl, chutzpah is good stuff. at least that’s my story and i’m sticking to it. also, i think you’ve just described my marriage, we’d have fun sitting at the unpopular table (although you’ve already moved beyotch) and drinking some wine. i like your style…even if you didn’t know what chutzpah meant.

  21. Oh.my.god.

    A friend of mine totally talked me off the ledge last night about posting a post exactly like this only not so well written because I so want to stab my husband lately.

    I am printing this and leaving it on the kitchen counter. And making that appointment. And I will post that post I wrote and link back to you for giving me that extra little bit of hair on my balls to actually post what I wanted to post in the first place.

    I have no idea if you followed that.

  22. I heart you. And I’m going to go home and show this post to SD. Prontz.

    And then haul our arses to marriage counseling therapy. I only hope the therapist doesn’t say I have chutzpah, because 1) tthat would only add fuel to our fire, and 2) I need to be focused. If the doc said that, I would just think about your post and smothering and stuff.

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