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December 15, 2014
I lead in my own art therapy. I take the paint or the crayons to paper and start on a vision I had, or a dream, or an image that could help me make sense of a feeling. I run with the idea and talk a blue streak to her, my therapist, throwing words into the mix of visual conception and the stew of emotions, until I come to a summation that feels like understanding or arriving at a new place on my path. She reminds me that my life has been hard; she doesn't want me to minimize it.