Listen HERE, world. I only go to therapy every other week, so dumb family shit that’s going to eat my brain until vodka makes it stop can’t happen during off weeks.
It’s not even worth detailing because they’re SUCH stupid conversations, but did you ever have a mundane discussion with your family that just crawls under your skin and colonizes? Yesterday with Dad, today with Mom — almost as if they’d tagged in and out.
Remind me again, WHY don’t I just send the therapy bills to my parents? Wait, what? “Owning my issues because I’m a grown-ass lady?” That doesn’t sound like me at all.
I’m so grateful to have so many influences outside my family. And for the therapist. SO MUCH FOR THE THERAPIST. (And obviously for my willing/ableness to work and tell heredity to go fuck itself.)