I began sitting on the proverbial and literal couch, spilling my life story, my innermost thoughts and feelings, my fears and demons, in February of this year. When I started, I figured I would do this for about 6-8 months and then see where things were and either continue or cut back, knowing that it’s not something you can put a definitive timeline on. Because how can you put a timeline on self-discovery and resolution of everything that’s ever challenged you? It’s not like, “Get laundry done by Tuesday. Pay bills by Oct. 31. Call Grandma on Sunday.” Figuring out what’s “wrong” isn’t an item on the checklist, and neither is fixing the wrong.
Why? Because it’s not really about what’s wrong or right. And nor is there usually an easy solution to the things that actually bring you to a therapist/shrink/counselor/insert your medicine of choice here. It’s not a math problem that always has an answer, and it’s not a maze that has an opening and an exit. Well, it may be a maze, but there’s not always an exit.
