I ended therapy today. Therapy that I started on Valentine’s Day–five months ago. Something I initiated over a severe broken heart. Week after week after week, with the exception of a few skips because of travel and once for illness, I saw him. I documented what I could in a black journal that he suggested I keep to write down my feelings. I’m mellower, more open-minded, and less exacting on myself. I challenge my perceptions, my protocols, what I would have done as my old self (dismiss, run, boil over with rage) versus the new me (stay put, ride it out, feel). It sounds so stupid. So hokey, but it has helped. I’m a changed person because of the therapy and I think I’m at a good stopping place to work on my own for now.
Ironically, I feel like I’ve regressed. Regressed to more child-like behavior–the way it should be. About the here and now. Building a castle out of a deck of cards right now! I cried once as a kid because the castle had to be built. No bedtime, there was no tomorrow. Now, now, now! I couldn’t help the tears cascading down my cheeks. That mentality was no where to be found these days. All I cared about was the future and if he was the one for me and living a lifetime together. A lifetime? What pressure.
Do you think we could be together forever? Why don’t we plan a vacation? Let’s try living together. I love you. Do you love me?
No longer the wide-eyed child finding amazement in little things, everything, right now. I became dim-eyed only caring about what was ahead.
“Goodbye, Adam. Thank you.” I gave him a big hug, catching him off-guard.
“Oh, hug? Ok.”
I was sad walking away from his office, but hopeful too. One less man, one new life.