When therapy ends

There is this person, whose couch I could always curl up on and cry, laugh, or simply vent about my life.

This person showed me a kindness I had not ever experienced. A basic, human kindness–empathy. She saw me for who I was, respected me for who I was, and allowed me to be and feel whatever I needed to.

She believed in me.

And, eventually, it allowed ME to believe in me, too.

You feel what you feel.

Finding my footing during the fall is always an experience. The level of stress in our household seems to go up 200%. My husband and I both go back to our jobs, the kids start school and fall activities. Life becomes hectic–and self-care becomes much harder.

Time

Time has been a good thing for me.

While in the very midst of counseling, time felt like a foe. Each and every day was a battle. Nights were long, full of anxiety and worry and overthinking. Each minute stretched out endlessly and I would focus on just trying to make it through another day, until I could reach the safety of my therapist’s office once more.