My father is a psychiatrist, so you can understand when I say that I have grown up with mental health. Terms like schizoid, pathology, and etiology are as common to me as flour, water, earth.
Still, the stigma and sting of therapy is no stranger. I’ve been in therapy for more years, off and on, than I can count. And today, Merce posed an unaswerable question about family, so poignant and sensitive, that I was wordless. I said nothing because that’s what truth does. It stares you down until you have nothing to say.

The anger, the passion, the sadness, the inevitable disappointments left ungrieved
are
all
l i n k e d .

Sometimes, for as much as I know the process is worth it, I wish it didn’t hurt so much.