I’ve been toying with the idea of therapy for years. Mostly because I’m convinced every single one of use could benefit from it, but also because I think I, someone who craves an understanding of herself, others and the world around her, would particularly benefit from it.
But thinking about it and doing it are two vastly different things.
So when I left the room in the middle of Elf on Christmas Eve and went upstairs to get on my mat so that I didn’t scream and start a fight (and you know, sort of put a damper on the holiday), I decided that my present to myself this year would be therapy. Real, professional, dear-God-how-much-is-this-per-hour therapy.