A few hours ago on this very morning, Thursday, September 14, I started my day with therapy.
I rarely ever say “yes” to a 9:30AM therapy appointment because the last thing I want to do is start my day talking about my feelings with someone — I’d rather dwell and spiral on them alone in the comfort of my home.
Alas, I rolled out of bed, slipped a bra on underneath the t-shirt I slept in, put on a pair of sweatpants that definitely need to be washed, threw on a pair of sneakers, and left the house.
“So, how are you doing?” Ann opened the session the way she always does.
“Well, I got bangs. So.” I retorted.
Then, I broke down in tears.