Therapy didn’t make me a serene, emotionally stable adult. It gave me feelings. All of them. At once. Usually in public. Turns out, awareness isn’t peace—it’s the part before peace, and it’s deeply inconvenient.

Therapy didn’t just help me grow—it made some of my favorite coping strategies unusable. Detached humor, emotional shutdown, overworking? They don’t work like they used to. And weirdly, that’s how I knew the work was working.

Sometimes saying too much in therapy feels like a mistake—until you realize it’s the beginning of real healing.