“Do you want to start where we left off last week?” said Ben, who had been my therapist for the past four years. When he handed me my usual cup of coffee, I connected eyes with him and knew he saw mine were red and puffy and tears were about to fall behind my smudged glasses. “What’s going on?” he asked gently. “It’s just too much.
All these thoughts. Trying to put things in order,” I said. I knew I was looking rough around the edges in my baggy sweats and a messy ponytail.
It’d taken all the physical and emotional energy I had to get to his office. “Are you still having paranoid thoughts?” “Constant.Read more on themighty.com