Today I started therapy again. It feels so good. I’m really thankful.
There’s really nothing wrong with me. Well at least I believe there is nothing wrong with me. I’m pretty confident that I’m normal and I’ve haven’t had any breakdowns or terrible times. But I’m trying to be proactive. I’m about to embark on a serious teaching load, and my anxiety level is up. Plus, it’s about time I start to address some more pressing personal issues: my less than stellar connection with my female side; my childhood; my relationship issues. Oh, I guess the list could continue.
So with the recommendation of a friend, I made an appointment and met my new therapist this afternoon.
So far, I like him. I have really only one request for a therapist: he or she must be a straight shooter. I don’t want someone who just listens and repeats back to me my last sentence. I want solutions and ways to get there. I want guidance. I want insight.
I think my new therapist will provide this. And I know he’s a straight shooter because at the end of my session, I said, “Well. I’m normal, right? I mean, don’t you think?”
And he said, “Maybe.”