It’s interesting, but people keep asking me if I’m seeing someone for my grief. I’m not.
I tried a form of therapy while my mom was sick, and I honesty hated talking about myself for an entire hour. Before I decided to stop, I felt like I was rambling endlessly about things that aren’t important because I didn’t know what to say. Not a good use of anyone’s time, in my opinion.
So, no . . . I have no further plans for therapy. I noticed something though . . . did anyone else realize that if you separate the syllables, Therapist becomes The Rapist? Just thought I’d share. 
