Some days I wished my therapist insisted that I lie on a couch like they do in the movies. This was one of those days. My body ached, my head throbbed, and I longed to close my eyes and block out the world. Sarah (she insisted we communicate on a first name basis) sat across a round, coffee table from me, in an overstuffed armchair identical to mine. She scribbled in a notebook, causing my curiosity to rise. How I longed to reach across that table to grab that notebook. What was she writing? Was she maki...