I sat in therapy putty three times in the last month.
Did I notice right away, when an emergency extraction could have been completed? Or much later, while folding a pile of supposedly clean clothes on a Sunday night, suspiciously scraping at a mystery stain while crying out, “What is that!?”
I’ll let you decide.
(For those that don’t know, once therapy putty has settled into the fibers of anything, it officially lives there. Forever.)
Regardless, I’m going to call the experience a neon-colored siren song back to a land known as internet blogging.
As you may have noticed, I took a little break from the site in the last few years. At the time I stepped away, I realized it is possible to become burnt out on the thing you started to keep yourself from burning out. Deep stuff, right? But I’ve finally asked for some help to manage the spinning plates of work and life, and I hope you’ll have me.
A big thank you to all that have participated in the conversations up to now, I appreciate you reading, commenting, and sharing with others. While I am loaded with a few years worth of fresh observations, I would love to hear from YOU. What’s going on where you are? What things are driving you crazy? Have you run into any techniques that just seem bonkers? What can we do better in treatment or maybe just in support of each other?
Please feel free to comment below, or start the discussion on the NEW Facebook page that I had to start because they kicked me out of my old one for not updating since 2015. Rude.
I am excited to hear from you. But for now, I’m going to go spray WD-40 on my pants in an attempt to remove the putty stains, because I guess that’s a thing.