She’s my therapist, which means, in my mind, that she’s supposed to be helping me. And she hasn’t been able to, as far as I can tell. But I don’t want her to feel bad. People like me better when I make them feel good about themselves. So I’m constantly assessing her reaction and editing my words to appeal to her. When a deep frown mars her face at my lackluster description of the past week, I panic and say, “I feel like I’m close to getting better.” That’s an outright lie, but it’s for a good cause because her expression immediately lightens up.
