So here's the thing, I'm seeing a therapist. Have been for almost two months. I haven't really told anybody about it until now, not because I'm embarrassed by it or anything, quite the opposite. This is probably the best thing I've ever done for myself, and if I wasn't so stupid I would have done this a long time ago. Then again, if I had, I probably wouldn't have ended up with my therapist and that would have really sucked, because J, you are amazing.
I guess the reason I'm admitting it is that I know a lot of people who could really benefit from seeing one themselves and if I can come out and say, hey, I know I look like I'm happy and stable and all but really, I'm kinda fucked up, maybe that could make it easier for someone else too. Not to mention, I can probably get a few funny stories out of it.
The reason I'm seeing a therapist isn't really anybody else's business and I don't plan on getting into details. Well, unless it can get a laugh, of course. There are some of you who will know the 'big picture' reason why I've gone to a therapist and I thank each and every one of you who offered to talk if I needed it. Thing is, there was so much more to it than you could have helped with. I needed a professional to help me even understand what it was that was wrong. I needed more than friends and family telling me what I wanted to hear, I needed somebody to kick over some rocks, somebody to pick at the scabs and poke holes in the walls.
Anyway, that's that. I've got it off my chest and I feel better and that's what it's all about.