A few years ago, I had to go see a therapist for a little while. I’m not embarrassed about it anymore. I guess that’s a small victory in itself. But one of the reasons that I’m not embarrassed is that I still hang out with my therapist once in awhile. He actually invites me over to his house. We sit around, drink coffee, and I don’t even have to pay him. Is it weird that I’m friends with my ex-therapist?
Of course, the obvious temptation is to go full Bill Murray on him, (What About Bob anyone?). But the relief of such undeniable proof that I’m not a lunatic was worth more to me than the amusement I would have derived from living out my favorite lunatic fantasy. And that, to me, is a small victory. You’ve got to cling to those, eh?