Rebecca H is such a great doctor.

“I work in community mental health, so I think I got this cold there.”

“Oh! Where?”

“Johnathan’s Plzce!”

“Oh, Okay!” She said, being familiar with it.

I liked getting out of the appointment during closing, its dark out, the lights are off, and the Christmas music was playing.

I had a feeling my work days would be very diverse despite spending them, well, “working,” and that has proven to be true.

Immediately, I knew I had found a new home.

I feel the resentment, pain, and loss of a 9-5. But it helps me to think:

“This ISN’T my life. What I do in my word docs, the book, the car, the condo, whatever is about to come romantically, THAT is what my life is about. This is just pouring concrete and laying steel.”

My therapist’s smile, her absolutely beaming affect, as she saw me in my suit in an office at my job.

“Sleep has actually been going really well.”

“Oooooooh!” A face-splitting grin. “I want to hear more!”

What a blessing she is as a therapist.

I may also get the chance to do my notes remotely and may be here once every weekday. Who the f knows??

I’m not going to mourn it, just commemorate it. If it is the end, it’s time to move on. If this place to be a part of work and my every week, that’s great too.

Know that you wrote this (and are writing it) from your bamboo table against the window in your hotel room at the Equus.

The bedside lamp right behind me is off, the one on the other side of the bed is on.

Know that you’ve spent these days walking 10-12 miles through gorgeous scenery.

Recall fetching cardboard carriers of tea from McDonalds to my room, where I’d enjoy the milkiness and sweetness and steam from each cup. Even at 10 PM.

Days without a care in the world. Where its always warm, never cold. Nobody needs anything from me. I’m not supposed to be doing anything. I spend money without thought.

Think about the view from the 39th floor, and the storming sky pounding against the window pane. How exhilarating it was. And all the baddies on Bumble digging you. It can’t last forever. But its my “present,” right now. And its here for you to trance back into when you need it.

I’m leaving the Equus on my vision board, because i’m going to return here, and when I do, it’s going to be with my fiance.

“I still don’t know whether I should go to Hawaii,” I told dad.

“This job is very important, it’s the beginning of your career. You should make the decision that would best prepare you for the start of this job.”

I smiled. This was confirmation.

“I am going to Hawaii.”

One year ago, it was a cloudy November day and boy, could I feel the lack of serotonin. Depression encroached like an army of enemy forces, running silent and deep in the darkness for an ambush attack.

I was anxious to do or say the simplest of things.

From my table in the Atrium staring at the grey sky, I really wanted sushi. Jasmine and I had plans with grandma for dinner (at Taki), which were promptly cancelled because: “Grandma is having dinner with Wyatt,” Jasmine woke me up with.

My heart pounding, I drove up and down streets nearby the school looking for parking spots near the local sushi restaurants. I flipped through backup restaurants neurotically. Finally finding the sparse Japanese place past Center Point heading to Fairfax.

All the while deathly aware of how broke I was.

Reaching home felt like survival.

Fast forward a year to the day, and my cortisol levels are low, the sun and sky are bright, I’m going to book the Equus soon, go to LA, I’m planning a Vegas trip for my birthday, and about to start a mega well paying job.

Things change. We change.