My therapy appointment was a mixed bag. On one hand, I absolutely think that she is a wonderful therapist and that I got genuine validation from a professional that my emotions are valid and there is a very good reason I’m feeling as fucked up as I am.
You wanna know just *how* much she understands? She’s in her 60s and wants to refer me to someone younger because she thinks that my trauma is so bad that she will have to retire before I’m well.
So, that was my fucking morning.
I can’t even say anything else than that. I was right, and knowing I’m right alternately breaks my heart and sets me free.
Stories That Are All True 