I know her mother died, but she’s literally my lifeline—and she just left me hanging
Something about the small room with its soft pastel walls and neat arrangement of teddy bears and other knickknacks on the shelves made me feel calmer just from walking inside.
It didn’t always feel that way. I used to cringe at first, sliding inside and shutting that door behind me as fast as I possibly could, lest anyone pass or see or realize what I was doing here. But that was months ago, and now, I’ll even admit that I look forward to Tuesdays at three. It’s kind of like emotional yoga. Or a deep tissue massage for the soul, or whatever you want to call it.
Sure, therapy can be hard work, and yes, it hurts. Sometimes. Maybe even often. But… it’s good. It’s really good. And I definitely feel like I’ve been making progress, although today….
“Yesterday was a disaster,” I told Aliza as I settled down and placed my bag on the empty armchair. “It was like everything we ever spoke about went out the window and I just got it all wrong. I blew up, Batya blew up, and there we were, arguing like toddlers instead of me being the calm one and the adult in the room, you know?”
Create a free account to keep reading.
