A love letter to the therapists in 2020

I am no stranger to therapy. I’ve been in therapy on and off since I was eighteen. My therapists have been a series of incredible, skilled women. First, there was the young, compassionate, funny, engaging redhead who skillfully navigated me through long-delayed grief over my father’s death. Then, the incomparably empathetic, wise, and tender older woman who helped me say out loud for the first time that I did not want…