**Journal Entry Therapy??** Lately, I’ve been thinking about quitting therapy. And I know I’m “supposed” to talk about this stuff, get to the root of the issue, dig into the trauma and unpack it all like it’s going to lead me to some peace eventually. But damn—why is that _all_ we talk about? Like yeah, that thing happened. It shaped me. But can I talk about literally anything else without being steered back to that one point in time like it's the core of every feeling I have? I want to be honest in therapy. I want to say everything. But I’m scared. Not just of judgment—but of impact. I know what I say doesn’t just affect me. It affects people I still have to see, people I still love, people who don’t know I carry this weight. So I hold back. I say enough to seem open, but not enough to set anything on fire. Because what if the truth burns bridges I’m not ready to cross? What if speaking it out loud hurts people who already hurt me? What if silence is the only thing holding this whole thing together? And yet... _not_ saying it feels like a setback. Like I’m choosing to stay stuck. Which I guess I kinda am. I started therapy before my last year of high school. Thought maybe it would help me get through the year, maybe even start healing. Then I stopped. Then I tried online therapy—twice. Two therapists, same meh feeling. Now I’m with someone else, and still wondering if it’s even doing anything. My doctor said therapy and meds. The meds were mostly for sleep. Didn’t love them. So therapy stuck. But even that’s starting to feel like a stretch. Because how can I keep walking into the same space, talking about the same thing, and walking out into the same life? At some point it just starts to feel performative. Like I’m checking a box: ☑ Showed up ☑ Said stuff ☑ Didn’t cry (win?) ☑ Left feeling... nothing Maybe I’m not ready. Maybe I am, but I’m just tired. Or maybe I’m wasting someone’s time who _is_ ready—someone who won’t just sit there tangled in their own fear of what telling the truth might do. So yeah. Maybe I’ll stop. Maybe just for a bit. Not because I don’t need help. But because I don’t think I know how to accept it right now. And I don’t want to keep faking progress just to make everyone feel like I’m doing okay.