1. You needn't worry that you're talking about yourself too much.
    Oh, the amount of time I've spent in self-absorption worrying that I'm self-absorbed.
  2. Your diarrhea of the mouth is a good thing.
    Though my therapist is good at interrupting when, amid my rambling, I slip in something like "oh, and also I'm not even sure that love is a real thing?"
  3. You get help making important decisions.
    If you're beset by (with?) self-doubt, you have a person who (a) has deep insight into what makes you tick, and (b) has a degree in improving the human condition. If you have self-doubt, that validation is priceless.
  4. You can freely admit "I'm not sure what I should be doing with my hands right now."
    My therapist is used to people not knowing how to be.
  5. If you're an atheist, it helps you calibrate your moral compass.
    I think of my therapist like a mash-up of the village priest, a Buddhist nun, and Joan Didion.
  6. It's the only time I practically welcome an anxiety attack, because, hey, it's data.
    Okay, so anxiety attacks always suck, but at least I'm in a safe space and I can share exactly what's going on.
  7. Your load feels lighter, even if it's just for a little while.
    Oh, that relief of unshouldering the mental and emotional burdens you've accrued throughout the week.