I stumbled into therapy -- for the first time in my life -- in less than two weeks after Maddy died. I didn't really know why other than, "Isn't this what people do?"
Sure, after some sessions I felt like I had been dropped off a building. Some days I felt like I needed therapy after my therapy to help me sift through everything I had unpacked. Eventually, slowly, I could see how it was useful and how it helped. Like anything else in this experience, I think I just got lucky.
I'm interviewing a grief therapist today at GITW. Come read along and give your shrink experience, won't you?