The leaves in town are still on the trees. The boys say it’s because the wind can’t get to them as easily, and I think I agree with them. One of them keeps a nightly journal before bed, and every once in a while I will ask if I can read it. Last night I visited his room while he was writing and asked. He doesn’t get super personal, just talks about his day. He handed it to me. I smiled as I read the words about our morning ruteen.
I had a counseling appointment today. I’ve never really known how to refer to her when I’m talking about it. I don’t think of her as my counselor. I don’t think of her as my therapist. One of my pet peeves lately is the way people talk about their therapists on Instagram. They’ll just casually say something like, “My therapist said…” I don’t like that for some reason. I understand they want to normalize people getting help, and I support that. But too it often starts to sound like everyone is in therapy these days.
It’s been almost a year to the day since I started. I’d wanted to do at least something the doctor said. I really didn’t think I was depressed, and still don’t think that. I still have heart palpitations and shortness of breath and the weird shaking in my legs if I’m stressed. I still have limitations I never had before. But she thought I was well enough today to be done. I was grateful too to know a fellow servant on the journey.