Well, in the hopes that it may help someone, I committed to sharing about my experiences with therapy. I used to write all the time about my mental processes, and people would tell me how much what I had to say mattered to them, helped them, or made them think. That always made me happy. The last thing I would want is for anyone to feel the way I feel/have felt, and, hey, I’m probably not even a heavy case of “crazy.”

So, today was my first appointment with my therapist. I am going to reserve judgement at this time, but I am pretty sure I’m going to like her. In times past, I never really felt like I could relate to whichever therapist I was seeing or that they could relate to me. For this reason, when I called the clinic to make an appointment, I specifically requested someone closely resembling my demographic (female and within a few years of me, age-wise, either way).

The ability to relate is important to me. The last therapist I saw was some young millennial (not that there’s anything wrong with that), and I always saw her attempts to relate to me as having come from a textbook and not really being genuine. Now, that’s totally on me and is nothing bad about her. But, when I find a scab to pick at, it will be picked at.

Usually, the first appointment or two are intake-type questions, so we didn’t get into anything really heavy. From what I experienced, it seems that we have plenty in common for me to feel comfortable divulging my pent-up crud.

I’m glad I got to meet her on a good day. I was up, happy, and feeling somewhat productive. Maybe next time she will see me when I’m in a slump. That’s important, too because, hey, that’s why I’m there.

So, we will see what comes of this. I hope it’s for the best.