And so we’ve come to the season finale. As I wrote in my final ELLE column this week:
“For me, this moment is a long time coming, a process that started when I was twenty-one years old, a junior at Georgetown, and I made the choice that would change the rest of my life: to write a column about dating.
They say you teach what you yourself need to learn. Perhaps I knew then (subconsciously) that I didn’t have the tools for a healthy relationship, and my subsequent decade of dating -- and writing about dating -- grew out of that.”
Watching myself on this show was certainly a wakeup call, but the real growth came DURING the show from the experiences I had battling with my own demons, from asking for help from people whom most of us would label “unconventional” if not full blown “woo-woo.” Whatever you call them, they worked.
The episode begins with me sitting on the couch with Peter Crone, the “mind architect.” I was devastated because I had both gotten dumped by Andrew and just learned my grandmother was in the hospital, dying. (The latter was the primary reason for my anguish.)