Dear Racheal
Dear Racheal,
Before I met you, I was a 57-year-old woman carrying around a really angry and bitter 7-year-old inside me. Anger was my constant companion, and it was messing with every part of my life— my job, my relationships, even my sleep. I felt completely shattered and couldn’t figure out how to piece myself back together. Over time, I lost all my friends, my lovers, and eventually my job. I was barely hanging on. I knew I needed help. After getting fired, I started my search for support. I realized I needed someone to talk to. I looked everywhere and finally found a short list of potential female therapists on the Psychology Today website. I meticulously typed each name into Google, hoping to find someone I could trust. Trust was hard for me; I was skeptical of everyone and everything. I saw so many women with their families, children, pets, and lives that seemed so nice and normal. Then I came across you. You were at some kind of fundraiser—I'm not sure what it was for—but your picture spoke volumes to me. You were in front of a bust of the Statue of Liberty, arms wide open, outstretched, and the photo had one of those Facebook Pride filters on it. You looked genuinely happy, relaxed, and a bit comical, like you’d just heard an amazing joke or had something awesome to celebrate. That Pride filter made me feel like I could be myself with you, my being gay and I just knew you were the one I needed.
