Shadow (dariaphoebe) wrote,
Shadow
dariaphoebe

Somewhat reluctantly, I skipped my bicycle due to impending rain, and drove myself to the still fortnightly visit to the therapist. After some flailing by the person substituting at the front desk, we started, a few minutes late. She asked what was new. What? Everything, and nothing. I told her of my recent successes, of my failures. A weekend away, a weekend at home, family celebrations, arguments. Doing things wrong, doing things right, and fully realizing aspects of myself. I told her of my plans for the next day - today - and confessed my fears.

When I concluded, she asked what other goals I had for therapy. The implication wasn't quite clear, but she continued on to clarify the point. What if ... what if I was finished?

I didn't brush off her statement, something which had often happened in the past when she pointed to progress I'd made. Indeed, I embraced it. Upon inquiry, I told her I wasn't without regret for things that had happened in the process of getting to this point, but it wasn't something I was willing to let taint my life. After prolonged thought, joy and pain, exploration and growth, I felt ready. I had not and would not be doing it alone: it's only with the support of others that we can fully come into our own, but I was there.

Our evening included an outdoor concert, and while biking the brief distance back to the car along a trail barely lit by the city behind me to conclude a wonderful night, I remembered the other thing I told her. This needed to be the new baseline. Nothing can ever be perfectly stable, but I now had my goal. This was my chance. This IS my chance.
Tags: therapy, transition
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