The last time I saw my ther­a­pist, I said I hope I’d nev­er see him again. That would mean every­thing was okay.

It’s been about two months now. A lot of the heal­ing I’ve been doing late­ly has been about not blam­ing myself for the past. Tragedy and pain are eas­i­er to accept when there’s a rea­son. Often, it was eas­i­est to deal with both if I was that rea­son, even though it would­n’t leave me feel­ing very good about myself.

But some­times there are no answers, noth­ing to point the fin­ger at when things fall apart. Looking back on old plans and impor­tant peo­ple, giv­en the knowl­edge I had at each stage in my life, I real­ize I would have done every­thing exact­ly the same, every sin­gle time. Understanding that has giv­en me a sense of self-respect again, and helped me come to terms a lot of things I found dif­fi­cult to get over.