waiting waiting waiting

Todays sketch is of the molded plastic Herman Miller-like chairs in the waiting area of my therapists office. Gotta love finding good design in the oddest places.

Growing up in Park Slope gave me a false sense of reality in many ways. One being the idea that everyone went to therapy. I mean at least half of my friends had parents that were therapists and we all went to therapy.

I was in therapy at the age of 4 because my parents didn't want their divorce to seriously screw me up. Basically I knew what play therapy was before I could read. This was not the most useful trivia when I went to camp in NJ. For whatever reason, the kids out there didn't want to hear how a shrink could help you work through you problems rather than acting out.

My worst memory of therapy is when I told a therapist I smoked pot. He then suggested to my mother, without my knowledge, that I see a drug counselor. Okay, so I was only 12 and had smoked some pot. But let the story be told that I had only tried it once at that point and I probably got the pot from my father. I'm still working out trust issues from that one. I went to numerous therapists after that, but by the time I was 16 I had enough and decided to give therapy a break.

I am back in therapy now and really love it! I feel so lucky to have this other person to work through issues with, along with all of my forms of self help (jogging, biking, sketching, dancing, loud music). If you don't have a therapist, GET ONE! I'm telling you, it's worth it. Your head will thank you...