A couple weeks ago I talked about being done with therapy.
…I guess I lied.
Today, my mom and I went to meet with a new lady. And I like her a lot.
She doesn’t take your crap. If you’re being self-pitying, she interrupts you. She makes you talk. She makes you feel things. She makes you change your life.
It’s different, but I think it’s going to work out. See, I haven’t been entirely truthful with you guys. (The four of you who read this blog) After my catharses with Dylan and Sean, I didn’t really feel better. It was surprising to me, because I set out on this project with those goals in mind, believing that once they were resolved, I could move on with my life.
Apparently not.
Of course, they aren’t my only prevailing issues now, but we’ll get to that when I feel like announcing it. The point is this: I don’t feel better. I still feel a crushing loneliness wherever I go, and seeing Dylan and Sean still clenches my heart painfully. Nothing is better. And I need help.
Thus, I found a new therapist. I’m not sure if this is good, but I felt a little better afterwards.
