Oh, shut up, Gal!

Sometimes I can be such a bossy pants. If things don't go exactly the way I think they should, I can really make myself heard. I'm not always right, you know. I can be an ass. Like this afternoon.

For months I've been after Henry to call Dr. Rivera. She's the shrink he saw several times back in 2019, not too long after his accident. Actually, she saw Henry and Reg together, trying to help them adjust to their new reality. Henry felt a great affinity toward her. Reg endured those sessions.

Anyway, Henry has had trouble communicating with people. He can be insensitive. He can be self-centered. The negative reaction he gets leaves him feeling isolated and lonely. "So call Dr. Rivera!" I've said time and again.

First, the good news: he called her. He has an appointment next week.

Now the bad news: he made an appointment for couples counseling.  

The problem with their marriage, as I see it, is that Henry has a traumatic brain injury and has done little if any rehabilitation. He's got to work at getting better, and he doesn't know how. Reg doesn't know how to help him. Reg wasn't impressed by Dr. Rivera. So couples counseling could well be a waste of time.

I made myself clear this afternoon, and I was wrong.

The important thing is that Henry wants to get help. Sought help. That took courage. That shows growth. Just because it wasn't exactly as I'd wanted it or envisioned it doesn't mean it wasn't worthy of support and celebration.

I apologized for being such an ass. Henry argued with me. "No, you're not. You are smart and you love me."

I am smart. I do love him. And I'm an ass.

I was wrong. Whatever goes down next week with Dr. Rivera, it shows progress. I'm grateful and impressed.