I love my therapist, whom I will call Lily. Lily has helped me through a terrible time when I was out of my mind with grief and despair. She is there whenever I have the need for some clarity on issues in my life, whether I know I have these issues or not when I sit down with her. Sometimes I get assigned therapy for other therapy I am involved in, and Lily makes herself available to listen. For example, when I was in family counseling with my ex, it was suggested I "see someone" because of the obvious anger still in play concerning the former husband. I was happy to re-re-re-engage with Lily and gladly set up an appointment to see my best fan (whom I pay to be such).
One great thing about Lily is that whenever I need her and have either insurance to pay or fee for service, she comes to my aid with listening ears and insightful responses. She's not exactly a mother figure, she's not that old, nor does she have the trappings and biases of a mother (my mother!). She is more of an aunt figure, without the complication of me having to remember her birthday. It's a totally one-sided relationship, since she has to ask how I am but I don't have to ask how she is, even though I totally wonder how she is. Actually, it's not a very healthy friendship relationship, but a great therapeutic one.
The beauty of therapy, which I appreciate so much, is that for once in my life it gets to be all about me. With friends, well, they like it to be sometimes about me and sometimes about them. I get really hungry for people in my life who not only know me, my history, and my quirkiness (and still like me), but who also are actually interested in what I am doing. Lily does this for me. She's like my priest, but without the dark anonymity of the confessional and the ongoing Catholic guilt!
One great thing about Lily is that whenever I need her and have either insurance to pay or fee for service, she comes to my aid with listening ears and insightful responses. She's not exactly a mother figure, she's not that old, nor does she have the trappings and biases of a mother (my mother!). She is more of an aunt figure, without the complication of me having to remember her birthday. It's a totally one-sided relationship, since she has to ask how I am but I don't have to ask how she is, even though I totally wonder how she is. Actually, it's not a very healthy friendship relationship, but a great therapeutic one.
The beauty of therapy, which I appreciate so much, is that for once in my life it gets to be all about me. With friends, well, they like it to be sometimes about me and sometimes about them. I get really hungry for people in my life who not only know me, my history, and my quirkiness (and still like me), but who also are actually interested in what I am doing. Lily does this for me. She's like my priest, but without the dark anonymity of the confessional and the ongoing Catholic guilt!
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