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Today was my last regularly scheduled therapy session. I’m not kicked out or anything, rather I now have what could be called a primary care physician of the mental world. That’s to say, if I ever feel sick “in the head,” I can make an appointment for a one-off visit or, if needed, a string of visits.

This is a little weird for me. I still have things I’m working on, but I’ll always have things I’m working on. The difference between me now and me a year ago before I started therapy is that I have tools to handle what I’m working on well. I’ve grown in the last year, too, but the point of my sessions was to instill habits and concepts that help me to be me.

What’s really weird about this is that I’m not cured. There was nothing to cure in the first place. Usually when you see a doctor, you have an illness that is treated and then goes away. That wasn’t the case this time. It’s been more like a year of training in how to ride the ups and downs of life and interact well with the people around me through all of that.

So we’ll see what happens. I’m confident that I won’t be back there for a while, if ever. However, I will miss someone listening to me as much and as well as my doctor did.

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