I started going to therapy in December. And by started, I mean that I had one appointment. I was going to set up another one, truly, but things spiraled downward and I never did.
Little Miss' therapist brought it up each time I saw her, and I always said I'd make the appointment and all the jazz, but I never did. It's not like I didn't like the therapist I saw, she's really nice. And it's not like I didn't like the method of therapy, which was art therapy, which I found interesting even though there's not an artistic bone in my body. I just never went and made the appointment.
However, tonight, as I sit in the office of the hotel bored out of my skull and halfway making breakfast for everyone, I just went ahead and e-mailed her, asking to set up an appointment.
I figured I need it. I cry at the drop of a hat nowadays, and I never filled my prescription for antidepressants, mostly because they were too expensive. But now I have a job, so who knows? I'll probably be asked to take them again, even though they tend to make me sleepy and irritated and sick.
So here's to hoping she's actually willing to meet with me again, and that it works out well. I hope it does actually. I have no idea what kind of art she's going to ask me to try in the next appointment, but I hope it has something to do with macaroni noodles.
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