In America today, going to a psychologist to cure an unhappy life is about as common as taking aspirin for a headache. That is fine and dandy for a few sessions (barring those with serious mental conditions) but any more than that seems like a waste of time/life. I know a guy who spent four decades in therapy blaming his father, his brothers (and countless others) for his problems and where did it get him? After all that time lying on a couch complaining to his Shrink, he was still as miserable as ever.
I wrote the story of Rosa Lee to remind folks of what Aristotle once said: “Happiness depends upon ourselves.” This is America, after all! Why sit around and complain about NOT being in paradise, when you can go out and build it for yourself?