Eleven Years Ago Tomorrow

Eleven years ago tomorrow, I walked into a therapist’s office for the first time. I nearly left before my appointment time, fearful and unengaged. I told him as much as he showed me into his office, the one with the wide view of a cloud-filled skyline. “I’m glad you didn’t,” he said.

Tomorrow, I shall be working with a troubled fifteen-year-old boy. I shall be writing reports. I shall be working with a group of dedicated and dear colleagues. Who knew, eleven years go?

It’s been a long, hard road, and I know in my mind that I have labored for all that I am and all that I have now. For all that there is to come, and the new experiences that await me. In my heart, I continue to question and doubt from time to time, so the labor goes on.

But most of all, I have learned so very much. I have learned that I can take care of myself. I have learned, by and large, who I am, though there is more revealing self-discovery to come. I have learned to release the pent-up warmth and desire to connect with others that were trapped within. I have learned to live.

And I have remembered that I love to write.