“The therapist I once talked with but never went back to, because the copay was too steep even with Dad's health insurance, would probably call this wallowing. Unhealthy. Destructive. But I'm not so sure. I treasure my newfound feelings, Hoard them. Every once in a while I study them, turn them around, squint at them like they're a ripe piece of fruit, plucked from a mysterious tree that shouldn't even be growing in my yard. When I pop them in my mouth to swallow them whole, they taste bitter and delicious.”
Book:Love, Theoretically