Just had my last session with my therapist (we have to part ways because I moved and she's not licensed for RI.) We've been working together for years. We both cried. I cried more. Cannot say enough, looking back over my journey of the last few years, how much I've learned and grown.
Therapy saved my life. And I think it's made my art better, because it's given me the tools to make myself better. The perspective to see myself, to know my depths, to sort out my shit and my baggage and turn it into power. That's a gift more precious than landing on a best-seller list.
I don't know who needs to hear this, but if you need help, reaching out for it doesn't make you weak. It makes you strong, because it shows you give enough of a shit about yourself to do the hard work of improving. You only get this one precious life; you deserve to make it the best it can be.
