I call my therapist, whom I fired six months before, for a touch-up session. I sit down on her couch and hold up the book, and she says. “Andrea, I’m glad you’re finally dealing with this,” and even though she is totally right and I should have dealt with it a long time ago and it was a good choice to read this book, there is a smugness to her tone, reminding me of why I had ended the relationship in the first place, so now I’ve made two good decisions this year.
