“When I grow up I want to do what you do,” my 3 year old told me.
“Like what?” I asked.
“Like…” she thought about it for a few seconds, “Like dishes!”
“Ah,” I said.
“And driving a car!” she concluded with triumph.
“Those are good things to do,” I admitted. At least she didn’t say ‘going to the doctor.’ Or, ‘lying in bed again.’ At least I’m still doing the dishes.
My psychologist told me the other day that I “sound good.” My therapist said the same thing last time I was feeling down. I don’t know if they’re lying or if my defenses are so automatic I don’t know they’re going up. I need the sun to come out, but the light hurts my eyes.