Therapy

My therapist is a friendly person, though they never flinch at my fondness for swearing in my sessions. Oftentimes, they'll swear along with me. I wonder sometimes if they do it to alleviate my self-consciousness, or to establish a better connection. Either way, I don't mind. It helps.

I've been seeing my therapist for almost six years now. They've been with me through my divorce, and through my father's death. They listen really well, and they indulge my stubborn assertions that I am, in fact, a robot and not a human being. I've suggested that they could become the first android therapist, and I think they'd corner the market if ever there was one. I credit my therapist with helping me stay alive when I really didn't want to be alive, and with helping me develop a stronger vocabulary for identifying and understanding my difficult feelings.

If you think to need to see a therapist, I urge you to see one. Seeing a therapist is playing in Hard Mode. You may not find the right therapist on the first try, or on the second try, or even on the third try. Keep trying. Seeing a therapist doesn't just help you understand your problems. It helps you become better prepared to handle the problems you haven't encountered yet. It's a gift to your future self, and if there's any gift worth giving, isn't it that one?