I heart my therapist

Really, she is worth every penny I pay her, and every hour I work at my "real" job to have the insurance to cover the rest. I always leave there feeling surprisingly lighter than when I left. But also a lot more open and vunerable than I prefer to be walking around the city during rush hour. Going from her safe, quiet office, back out into the croweded chaos of rush hour can be unnerving in a ripped out of the womb kind of way. Especially in that neighborhood, M.'s neighborhood. These two things have given me a very odd and conflicting association with the area. It's both comforting and anxiety filling, the safest and most dangerous place to be all at the same time - that actually would make for a good analogy about relationships themselves, ha. So every time I leave her building I have my post-therapy ritual. A re-installing of the outer shields of sorts. I stand in the lobby and pull on my hood, sunglasses, whatever concealing accesory I have on me that day, headphones on, volume way up, cigarette in my mouth, ligher in my hand, out the door, light the cigarette, and move as quickly and aggresively as possible to and onto the train. This outer shield is vital for those moments. B/c my inner sheilds are still very much down, my head still processing the last hour, staying open to sort out everything new. Sheilds down, mind/heart open and growing, all the way home, drowning out the rest of the world with my ipod volume and eyelids.

If you ever want to know what I'm really thinking, catch me right after therapy.