Monica Bielanko
That's What She Said
Just A Junk Drawer Dream
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The Most Important Thing I've Learned In Therapy So Far

After years of avoiding therapy, I started seeing a therapist right around the same time Serge and I separated. Sitting (lying?!) on a couch, bemoaning my fucked-up childhood, held no appeal to me as I’ve seen far too many people use crappy childhoods as an excuse to behave badly. What’s done is done, I reasoned. I've got enough brains to sort through the fallout resulting from the stereotypical smorgasbord of issues I’ve been jamming into the tattered suitcase that is my proverbial baggage. Why go back and—like tonguing a sore tooth—revisit pain?

Except at this point my suitcase is heavy as hell and it’s an older model—no wheels.

Turns out, while managing to be astoundingly insecure, I was simultaneously wildly egotistical. Because, as you may have already guessed, when it comes to attempting to sort out why we do what we do on our own our brains are tainted by the fact that they’re in our heads which renders us generally unable to view certain situations with the proper perspective. Like someone facing options after a cancer diagnosis, we are in desperate need of a second opinion.

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