A Better Life

 I ordered a journal today.

When it comes to journals, I'm picky. I like what I like. Maybe everybody does? I dunno....

First of all, it needs to be a soft cover and softbound - not a hardback or spiral. It needs to be moderate in size - not so small that it fits in my hand but not so large that it's burdensome. And it needs to have college ruled lines - no blank pages or wide ruled for me.

I could spend hours looking at journals honestly. And I know it when I find it. It has my name on it. 

My closet shelf is lined with filled-up journals - each serving a unique purpose through the years. Back in the early days, I had prayer journals, each entry written in earnest, begging for a pure heart and yearning for God's Presence in my life. And then there are journals filled to the brim with gratitude, outlining all of the blessings that I've savored in the day to day living. I have journals that read like a diary and journals that have entries written on a whim. Each is special and each represents a piece of my life, of days gone by.

But this journal? The one I ordered today? I already know its purpose.

This past summer I started therapy for the first time in my life. My therapist is a girl named Meredith and I'm pretty sure she's the best therapist on the planet. She's definitely the best for me. I have grown by leaps and bounds since spending time with her as she has gently, kindly guided me to a new way of thinking, of living. She has opened my eyes to faulty thinking, to the pieces inside of myself that are wounded, to dysfunctional behavior brought on by incorrect messages instilled during my childhood years.

If I had to name the top five most life-changing events of my life, one of those events would be therapy. I am so much happier now - so much more at peace in my heart. And that's a beautiful thing.

As my health insurance pays for my therapy, I figured that I would have to largely give it up as of January 1 when it all rolled over and I had a $3000 deductible to meet. My therapist knew this and so we made each session as profitable as possible, squeezing life out of every minute, discussing the hard stuff, and sparing no details. And then when January hit, I sadly bid weekly therapy sessions adieu and pledged to meet with her every month to six weeks, just to touch base and keep myself afloat on the emotional realm.

And then Roy had surgery. 

I don't know if you know this, but surgery is expensive and we maxed out our portion of medical expenses in one grand swoop.

And so? Hello Therapy! It's me again! 

Nine more months of weekly sessions with Meredith. Nine more months of soul searching, of healing. Nine more months to grow spiritually as Meredith, too, is a seeker of spiritual things.

For the past few months, I've taken notes in my regular journal - that one that hangs out in my nightstand drawer that I write in weekly, usually on Saturday mornings while it's still dark outside and a cup of steaming coffee keeps me company. 

But I've decided that therapy deserves its own journal and so I purchased one today - a softbound leather journal with a decorative tree on the outside titled "Tree of Life." 

It's fitting really. Because therapy? It is life. It is wisdom and beauty and peace. It has awakened me to so many wonderful things, really. I am learning that I am enough, just as I am. I am worthy because I have life. I am loved simply because I Am. 

So. 

Cheers to new journals.

Cheers to therapy.

Cheers to new ways of thinking.

But most of all?

Cheers to life: a better life.