I need a refill.

March 30, 2018

Today, I almost cried at therapy. I was certainly brought to my knees. But not out of pain. My coffee spilled. My fancy, overpriced, delicious coffee spilled. It's not even so much the taste. It is the way someone else makes it for me and hands it to me. Complete. Ready to be enjoyed. No work on my part. 

 

It spilled. Everywhere. So I was on my knees mopping up skinny vanilla latte from the hardwood, the couch, her computer bag and the little that spilled on my therapist's rug. I am trying not to read too much into it.  About indulgences and waste and embarrassment. Trying not to read into things is SO NOT a skill of mine. I don't know if reading in to things IS a skill but I am at least advanced with all the time I had devoted to it.

 

She my therapist held the baby while I cleaned up the mess and the really lovely people at Starbucks made me another, gratis. So maybe the lesson here is, I got the help I needed anyway. Yes, let's go with that.

Thanks for coming along on this journey with me. Think that what I am saying is worth sharing? Please do. Facebook, Twitter, email, text. Heck, write a note. I accept all kinds. Plus, it'll help a girl out!

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