Box

Had my third session with my new therapist today — and for the first time ever, it’s a guy. I’ve always had women before, so this felt like the fresh energy I needed. He’s super kind, and of course I showed up with my usual list of things I wanted to unpack (because... me).

And somewhere in the middle of it all, I had this realization: I’ve spent years trying to box up the past — seal it tight, shove it on a shelf, pretend it’s weightless. But it never really stays gone. A smell, a song, a line in a conversation... and suddenly it’s all back like no time has passed at all.

Therapy has helped. I’ve shown up. I’ve done the work. But maybe some things aren’t meant to be “fixed.” Maybe they’re meant to be carried. Managed. Sat with. And that’s a harder truth to sit with than I want to admit.

Some days the weight feels lighter. Some days heavier. But it’s always there.

And part of me wonders... am I almost therapied out? Like Dorothy — going on this long journey only to realize I knew the way all along.

Just being honest about where I’m at today. 🌈💭🖤

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