Let me talk to you all about something.
The raw and real about therapy.
As much as I love it... and as much as I have been changed because of it...
it drives me NUTS sometimes.
It will be 2 years next month. TWO.
TWO YEARS.
Ugh. The almost weekly phone calls. The energy it takes to talk about "what that means to me." The seemingly "pointless" exercises. The crying. The assignments each week. (The not always doing the assignments each week.) The exhaustion.
Sometimes feeling like nothing is happening. I've stalled. My therapist pushes- and nothing.
Will I be doing this for the rest of my life?
Don't get me wrong. My therapist is amazing. He is so d*** good at what he does. I am often taken aback at what he gets out of me, sometimes verylittle of anything, during our sessions. All on the phone, mind you.
But, do I really want to be talking to him for the rest of my life? Do I?
Hmph. For right now... I guess I do. This is how it is. This is what I need to do. God is still working on my heart. My heart still needs some softening. He still has things he wants me to learn.
Like- how the devil can be so far, deep seated into our thoughts that we may not even realize it. It's terrifying. The lies we believe about ourselves (or maybe others or about life) can become so habitual, so normal, that you never think twice about them.

That's what the devil does.
By the grace of God, the Light is shining on those darkened areas. Areas I didn't even realize were dark. How beautiful is that?
So, do I always want to be talking to my therapist? Nope, not at all.
But, I will.
Because the devil hates it.
And I love God.
God always wins.
Just keep swimming, guys. Seriously.