And so we begin again

Saturday afternoon, I had my first session with a new therapist. It felt good.

I made the appointment to talk about Henry. Our relationship causes me pain and it shouldn't, because I intellectually understand everything we were told when he was still in the hospital back in October 2018: we can look for him to often be depressed, irrational, paranoid and hostile. And he frequently has been. I'd like to add manipulative, too. I know it's the brain injury. I know he can't help it. I know he often doesn't even remember much of what he's done. And yet it still hurts.

We also had to discuss my impending joblessness. It will have an impact on my insurance and ability to pay for sessions, after all. She said she thought I was handling it well. And I suppose I am, when I'm talking about it. It's when I wake up first thing in the morning, alone and swirling in my own thoughts, that I'm scared.

Which is why, Saturday night, I reached out across the miles to my oldest friend. I told her that when the new shrink asked about my relationships, I mentioned that my oldest friend and I are Beatle bonded and have been buds since 1964, when we were six and seven. The doc literally sighed and touched her heart. Anyway, talking to my oldest friend also helped. I have to remember to reach out when I get weird.