I had my second therapy appointment today since restarting again.
I began therapy in 2008 when I was beginning the downward spiral that lead to me getting divorced from Monkey's father a year and a half later.
It got me through a lot of things--brought me back from the brink of...suicide? Not quite--but I didn't care if I died or not. I wasn't going to do it, but I didn't care if it happened. And I am so thankful that I was surrounded by people who loved me and encouraged me to reach out for help.
But I was sitting there today and it felt more like I was talking to a friend or a colleague about what is going on in my life.
The fact is, I am equipped with the problem solving skills I need to work through almost anything. I don't think I'm suffering from depression right now. I know that it's a slippery slope and the first sign of it I need to get my butt back on meds.
I didn't schedule an appointment when I left today. We discussed the possibility of me coming back after I get my physical from the (hopefully!) new doctor next month. I am guessing she doesn't think I need to be there anymore either.
Time for a little less talk and a lot more action.
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