Anakin was familiar with the concept of therapy - wounded veteran, PTSD, ADHD, anxiety. He'd seen more than a few therapists in his life so far. He could handle therapy.

Memories from another life, however...

Hadn't the universe thrown enough at him already? Did it want his other arm, too?

Backpack in tow, air pods in, prosthetic arm there were anyone could see it - it tended to clear the path on the side walk, he headed towards the Rec-center where the group therapy meeting was.

He followed someone up the steps and then stopped when they did, to be courteous. When the young man paused a bit longer than a few seconds, Anakin said, "Excuse me, I just need to get in. I have a meeting I need to get to."