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.

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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.