Dear Therapy

Dear Therapy:

At first I worried about you. I hesitated to be associated with the stigma that your name comes with. Did we really "need" you? Did this mean that the Beast's "problem" was a lot more serious than we thought?

And now we have walked quite the journey with you. Twenty fifty-minute sessions. Twenty Wednesday mornings with twenty co-pays and twenty "Hi my Sally Ann!"s. Twenty times to see progress, over and over again.

Thank you for giving my little guy confidence. He couldn't even stand up straight for more than a few minutes at a time, and now look at him perfectly balanced on the rocking board while getting ready to toss his bean bag.

I never thought I would cry so much, although I've heard therapy does that to you. Every milestone, every tiny step taken in the right direction has filled my eyes with happy tears. A successful slide down the incline, an arduous climb through the hammocks, a joyful exploration in the ball pit, a tedious cutting out of simple shapes, a step into a tub of scary textures and facing the fears - all working to make my Beast a little closer to being "the same" as his peers.

And oh the encouragement from Mrs. Sally Ann! I leave you each Wednesday morning beaming with pride at the praise and kind compliments I have heard about my son. The benefits of therapy for him and for our whole family have been more than I would ever have imagined.

I am sorry to be saying goodbye, sorry that frustrating healthcare policies and insurance qualifications are preventing us from going further. If each session wasn't the cost of a small car payment, perhaps we could continue; but until the insurance company sees it our way, I am afraid that we will not be seeing you for a while.

Thank you for what you have done for my son.

---dedicated to the best, kindest, most brilliant therapist ever - my Sally Ann.

---pictures were taken on my cell phone, hence the lower quality.