The next day, I call my friend Anisha and tell her I will never go to therapy again. After a sleepless night fighting to keep the past from consuming my present, I am furious that everything I’ve worked so hard to rebuild seems to have crumbled. “It feels like I’m right back there, in the week after it happened. The stakes are too high,” I say. “I had it all under control. I can deal with this myself.” Anisha tells me, “A good therapist knows you have to live in the house while you remodel.”
