Sometimes therapy seems like magic. On my way to my session on Friday I was thinking about how I needed to clean, since a friend was coming in town for the weekend, and that I hated the way I procrastinated so much, which makes having to clean (or do whatever I’ve been putting off) at the last minute become a stressful chore. I’ve tried to change this behavior, but I’ve never succeeded and I generally feel like it is just part of my personality, defect that it is.

I didn’t intend to talk about it with my therapist, because it doesn’t feel like something that is on quite the same level as what I need to straighten out in my head. Yet somehow we ended up talking about it! And magically when I got home, I started cleaning with little fuss, and had everything done that I wanted to get done, and then some, by the time my friend showed up. Weird.

Hopefully it won’t be a one time thing. Hopefully my therapist pointing out one very simple thing has changed my internal dialog.

Therapy is such an interesting experience. I could never have predicted how much it is helping me, or in what way.

And it is sort of scary to think how my internal struggles have probably been impacting people all these years, and only now can I see that, now that things are changing. I just got off the phone with my mom, and she said as we were hanging up “it was really nice talking to you,” which isn’t such an unusual thing for my mom (forgiving woman that she is) to say, but the genunine pleasure behind it makes me think I probably owe her and my dad some apologies for being the difficult and prickly person I’ve been. I can do better, but I am only realizing that now.

Better late than never.

manet painting

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