To My Therapist -a poem-

So my therapist caught me off guard yesterday. She’s moving up in the world and is transitioning to a new job. Next week is our last session together. I have a lot of feelings about it.

I came to you a broken mess –
a puzzle whose pieces
fell to the floor,
but I couldn’t find the way
to pick them up myself.

I cried out for help,
and you answered the call,
ready to take on everything I threw at you.

While I’m not perfectly put together just yet,
I see where the pieces will go,
and even though I’m sad our time is done,
I’m glad you practice what you preach:
you keep yourself number one.

I know it’s your job,
but I owe a lot to you.
I truly thought this year was
impossible to get through –
but look at me now,
stick kicking,
still fighting,
so close to finally feeling renewed.

Thank you for the last eight months.
I’ve learned so much about myself.
I know now there are better days ahead,
not just for me, but for you as well.

Coffee Shops – My Therapy


coffee therapy.png

Friday, you got the pleasure of reading a wonderful guest post by Brent Jackson (if you didn’t read it, make sure you do!) about how for him, coffee shops are his second office.

After my mental breakdown on Wednesday (I call it that, but I don’t think it was that bad), I needed to recuperate. On Thursday, I don’t go into work until 2pm, so I stopped in at Starbucks (just a mile from work) and got up to the counter pondering what was going to give me the best start to my workday.

Deb (I seriously love her) was working, and she asked if I wanted my usual – a grande blonde roast, with room for cream. “It’ll have to be a pour over though, is that okay?”

I have no problem with pour overs, I get them all the time! But I wasn’t sure I was feeling the plain coffee thing today though. And I think she could sense my hesitation before I said yes.

She asked if I wanted her to use less coffee grounds or something, and that’s when I told her that I’d had a bad day the day before, and wanted something different. Continue reading