My old therapist gave me this stone at our last meeting. When I got to my new place, I placed it on a desk and soon forgot it was there. I was looking for a job, spending time with old friends – different concerns took over.
Something reminded me of it tonight. I’ve been horrible. I’ve been avoiding writing here because I don’t want this blog to just be a long list of failures. Then I remembered my little stone.
Most of my life has been guided by the belief that no one who really knows me can possibly care about me. I didn’t even tell my old therapist everything…but I told her a lot. And of course she was getting paid, and of course she knows how to behave by professional standards, but part of me was still able to believe that she cared genuinely. There is still the part of my brain that thinks that was probably a lie, but there is another part of my brain…I think maybe it’s a possibility that she cared.
I’m gearing up to make some changes. Again. I’m going to stop by an LGBT counseling center tomorrow and see about starting with a new therapist, again. I’m going to try to re-focus on being healthy…again.
I’m holding my little stone in my hand. It’s actually making me feel a little better.