I started out seeing a therapist 2-3 times a week. I was homeless at the time and had been for quite some time before that. I was also doing some things in life that I should not have done, which hurt my loved ones very much.
Sometimes I ended up in the hospital for a few days to a week, to get a medicine adjustment or just to tide me over until I could get back on my feet.
As I progressed along, I found a church nearby where I was begging in the streets, and they were kind to me, not treating me as the beggar who begs around the corner from here. They treated me like a human being and even some of the members gave me money to help me.
As I progressed in therapy and the church helped me to see I was hurting my loved ones, I stopped hurting them. Some forgave me, some did not.
I eventually only needed to see my therapist every other week, and now I see her only once a month. She uses a smattering of therapy techniques on me, she says, whichever of her many tools she needs in order to help me in my life. I always come away from her sessions feeling fulfilled and at peace. All this started in 2002 and progressed slowly but surely. I was not stable in a shot time, but I eventually am stable now and have been for several years.