A few months ago, my therapist moved to a different office and as much as she tried to smooth the transition, it was hard. It didn’t feel real; I felt like I was just waiting to go back to the old office. But last week, for the first time, I walked into the new office and it felt normal. It felt right.
A part of me does still miss the old office. A lot happened there. So this is a little tribute to the old office and my armchair there. A lot of different versions of myself sat in that chair. Depressed me, joyful me, panicked me, hopeful me, hopeless me… That room saw a continuum. It was the setting for a lot of important conversations. I said out loud things I never in a million years thought I’d share. I processed an Autism diagnosis, I talked about the people I’ve lost, I played each new song I’d written, I cried when I was too depressed to talk, I talked about giving up, I talked about changing the world, I even took my cat and her kittens.
That place will always be special but I’m getting used to the new one. I’m learning how me and my emotions fit into that new space and I think they’re starting to.