Therapy.

Tuesdays are therapy night. My therapist, Richard, is this soft-spoken man of about my height with a round bald head and round clear acrylic glasses and a wide wide smile that makes him squint. His approach is holistic, addressing not only emotions and intangible cause and effect, but also the science of our brains and bodies, and most importantly, how the two interact and how to bring them into alignment to live a whole and healthy life.

I adore him, even when he does the “therapist-smile-and-nod” while he waits for me to talk myself around to the conclusion he knows he doesn’t have to offer.

Tonight’s and last week’s sessions included him reading aloud the four posts from my “Letting go” mini-series. We got through fear, resentment, and perfectionism last week, and expectations tonight.

Over the last week especially, I have had opportunities to move forward on these well-being goals. We were able to apply them to events I’ve experienced, decisions I’ve made, and how my body has responded to the massive amounts of energy required for even slight shifts away from emotional habit. Needless to say, it was a pretty draining session, and I wish I could tell you that I left feeling good about my progress. I know I will down the road, but right now, in this space where my brain and body and (figurative) heart are still used to the old ways, this feels hard and scary and I have to work at not being resentful (ha!) toward Richard for guiding me on this path. Then I remember, it’s my call. I knew it wasn’t going to be all fun and games, and it sure as hell wasn’t – and isn’t – going to be easy. But maybe, just maybe, it’ll be worth it. I owe it to myself and the people in my life, both now and in the future, to find out.