123. The Name I Don’t SayNova

Therapy becomes routine the way bruises fade: slowly, unevenly and without asking for my permission.

Every Thursday at ten, I drive across the city and sit in the same chair with the same cushion tucked behind my lower back. I drink the same tea. I answer the same opening question, How has this week been? - with variations of fine that mean very little.

The predictability comforts me. I don't want to complicate things. I don't think I am ready to face the ...