Today I saw my therapist for the last time before college. I'll be checking back in when I visit home, so my therapy isn't over per se, but this is definitely an ending of sorts. I've been dreading it all summer.
The subject of therapists and mental health is almost taboo in many circles. I've come to mostly ignore this. Why? I'm not ashamed. I'm not crazy, either. Therapy is one of the best things that has ever happened to me. To compare myself pre-counseling and today is a difficult proposition in that the change is staggering. I've grown into my skin in ways I would never have fathomed previously.
Despite their good intentions, my first few counselors managed to make me feel inadequate ("It's been six weeks - you should be happier by now") and worse about myself ("You're quite like your father, aren't you?"). I'm verklempt just trying to find words for how grateful I am for the lovely woman I have been seeing for the past year and a half. There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that she cares for and about me deeply. I've never felt judged, unsafe or rushed*.
I have, to be cliche, blossomed.
Days until college: 3
* She also makes Harry Potter references. Just saying.