A therapist once worked on me via so many self-help books I was tempted to call her a librarian. Weekly I’d sit in her office: return the book – discuss the book – and leave with a new book to read before the following week.
I was self-helped out! Was I a manipulator or manipulated? A giver or a taker? Was I really from Venus? Would I ever learn to say no? Was I an enabler or my dad’s true guide towards sobriety? Was I in fact and forever addicted to love? Could I find the energy to let go? How could I ever tap into the power of now when my reading list was never ending? And when will they ever publish a book about denial?
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