Three years…

It’s been a really tumultuous three years but I’m still here, fighting and whining and bitching and crying and, well, healing. I’ve been with my current therapist for three years! It’s just, well, it’s just unbelievable. First off, you’re not supposed to go past 10-12 sessions at the women’s center where I see her, so three years is unheard of. I don’t know how she’s worked it out, but I’m very grateful. I only pay $15 a session and wouldn’t be able to afford anything more than that. Second, I should have died a few times by now if it weren’t for her help. I almost successfully committed suicide in August and I’ve been hospitalized three subsequent times since. She’s been there for me the whole time, as much as she was able to.

I’m terrified that she will leave the women’s center she’s been at (she’s been getting her hours for license certification) and go elsewhere. If it’s somewhere in Jacksonville and we can work on price, I’ll be fine. The problem is, she live in Amelia Island, and I cannot afford to drive that far for therapy. I’m dreading the day she tells me that she is leaving. I don’t think I can handle it. I guess until then, I will cherish every session with her.

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