It happens three times a week, therapy time. Don’t misunderstand me, I am quite alright with therapy. I actually recommend it, if you feel it helpful. I was in therapy years ago and that doctor was wonderful. She helped me see things I couldn’t by myself. Then again, it was also before the roof fell on my life (metaphorically typing). Now it’s time for new therapies and new strategies.

Dr. Cromley is a nice person. She is soft spoken and gentle in her words, but she does face a difficult task, I do not talk. So how does a therapy session go on like that? Interesting is the only word to type. 

She brings in her supplies like paper, pencil, crayons (I still don’t understand that one but I’ll move on), pictures she gathered of my life and a mirror. She alternates her supplies so I’m kept guessing. She forgets that first I have to care before I can wonder about alternative therapy supplies. She’ll figure it out eventually.

My only role is to sit and listen, or sometimes I lay down and listen. When I sit, I almost always face the window staring outside. I don’t like to miss a sunny day, especially if the warm sun radiates the glass. That’s my thing and I have no plans to change it. She does, but we’ll see who gets anything out of this.

Ok, here she comes, so I’ve got to go for now. 

Come back if you want to know how it goes. Silence is never dull in my room.

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