I Hope You Have A Good Therapist

I just got home from seeing my therapist, Allie. I’ve written about seeing her before, but never alluded directly to my visits or the epiphanies that I’ve had with her over the last 6 months. I’m sure a lot of people’s first or second thoughts in considering what I was facing in all of this were probably along the lines of, “I hope he’s got a good therapist…” Well, yes, I do, thank you very much.

I felt sketchy as soon as I got in the car this morning. My days have been difficult as of late, going from one extreme to the other. I’ve been doing a lot of “pushing through things,” carrying the weight of the world on my back for a long time, but I hit the road for my hour and fifteen-minute drive down I-75. Yep, I drive an hour and fifteen minutes to see her. She’s that good.

I’ve written previously about how music has been a vessel by which Shani has communicated with me since her death, and obviously, a huge theme of the book Sean and I are writing is about mine and Shani’s connection with music. I’ve written about how Shani has sent me messages through song lyrics (as I type this, Crazy Love by Van Morrison is playing). At this point however, when hear something that seems to have come at the perfect time, or a specific song comes through, I’m simply comforted. It has become a common feeling that I now have about the interconnectedness of all things.