Therapy 11/29/2011
 
I'm not ashamed to admit that I go to therapy. I used to go once a week, but now I'm up to once every six weeks. It helps me realize that I'm not crazy, but sometimes there's just a lot of craziness in my life. And sometimes, what I think of as "craziness" is just my over zealous emotional reaction to normal said life stuff. Sam makes me laugh and calls me on my crap. I like my therapist, Sam.

I admit, also, that paying Sam to listen to me and give me advice, or perhaps just hand me a pat on the back and take my money that, quite frankly, could be a heck of a lot more than it is due to insurance, is a problem everyone should have.

And yet, given that I live in a pretty fractured place called Los Angeles - where friends are scatterd, family tends to be formal and private, and my husband works an awful lot of hours - I'll take the therapy when I need it. When one of you readers invites me to live in your compound and promises to cook gluten free/caesin free with me on a budget and serve me coffee cake while we laugh over the laundry, I'll give Sam his walking papers. But not until then.
 
Therapy hasn't changed T.S..  It hasn't changed that sometimes family dynamics change and my babies are growing up. But it gives me perspective and peace. I'm grateful for it.

Wondering if you go to therapy? If so, has it helped? If you haven't gone, is it due to stigma? (Where I live in Los Angeles, it's almost a stigma if you don't go. But I digress.)

Here's some closing free therapy advice for you: you don't have to be perfect to be human. You have to be perfectly human. This goes for your T.S. kid as well as for you.

Now, which if you lives on a compound and wants a six one house guest who can rhyme off the top of her head?

I'll make you laugh
I'll make you cry
I'll blog untl the day I die
I promise to cook gluten free
Oh who will who will who'll take ME????

And good night.
 


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