On Therapy

I'm in therapy. I keep on harping that to anyone I feel comfortable sharing it with. I discuss in detail what I do in therapy with just a handful of people, probably 2-3 persons. I tell anyone who's willing to listen because it's something that I want to normalize and by sharing it, I would feel more at ease about it.

For years I have resisted getting help. I think I went into Psych because I thought it would help me. And I have always resisted counseling because my transference is really high, so is my abasement. But now that I am doing it, I realize how beneficial it can be, especially to someone like me who has a truckload of issues. As it is, it was Cat again who pushed me to do this--to engage in something that I need but was never brave enough to do. Inadvertently, her death pushed me into doing this. In the weeks following her death, I couldn't cope, I couldn't think, I couldn't do anything worthwhile and that time in my life opened my eyes that I had to get some help.

I've always known I needed help, I just resisted it. Stubborn as I am, I tried everything to remove myself from situations that would require me to be pushed into therapy. I did everything, I tell you. But that curveball was too much for me to disregard, too big for me to deny its existence.

And now, months into it, I see how much it has helped me. Again, all thanks to Cat. 

Don't get me wrong, I'm still far from being fully healed and whatnot, but I can say I am better compared to how I was earlier this year.

I've always believed I met Cathie because I needed a template of goodness in my life, of a certain level of humanity that I could never achieve. She was with me through it all, and I am and will be eternally grateful for that. I still miss her, I don't think I'll ever not miss her. But sad as I am (and yes, I am still sad), I know I need to continue living, to continue remembering her. And because I still have the opportunity and the capacity to do that, I will take it and do just that, for as long as I could.