I sometimes wonder how upset the clients would be if they knew how mentally ill some of their therapists are.

When I worked in the kitchen my friend got mad, like really mad, because she saw her therapist at an AA meeting. This is odd, to me, because a lot of people who are in recovery for addiction are substance abuse counselors.

Would you feel worse or better if you know that we have panic attacks sometimes when we drive or, at the grocery store?

Would you feel worse or better if you knew some nights we can’t sleep so we stay up cleaning and fixing?

Would you feel worse or better knowing that sometimes we take ourselves off of our medication because we, too, resent having to take it? Like being the therapist means we are supposed to know better than to be mentally ill.

Would you feel worse or better knowing how many of us almost got fired because the ADHD makes it almost impossible to keep up with all of the paperwork? (Seriously, so much paperwork)

These are things I wonder about.

Lately, I have been thinking a lot about the ideas that so many have about “getting back to normal.” An event happens and people talk about getting back.

I don’t believe that it is possible to get back. Throughout the course of a life every cell is regenerated. Every cell becomes new. Yet, it is all considered normal.

What if instead of constantly trying to be who we were or, trying to be who we think we are going to be we could just be who we are?

I’m not saying we shouldn’t try to grow. I’m not saying we shouldn’t remember the person that we used to be. I’m just saying we shouldn’t be in a constant state of grieving the person that we are right now.