A letter to my therapist

I know it’s been difficult at times; I’ve been difficult.

There are times when being in the same room has taken up all my focus and energy and I haven’t been able to listen to you. But you kept talking. I still can’t accept the idea that anyone could help me. That anyone could want to.

Through all the times that I have given up on myself, you haven’t. You’ve listened to things that no one has ever heard before. You’ve listened to my jumbled attempts at forming sentences. You’ve listened to my silence. Through everything, you’ve listened. I think that’s what I needed.

You’ve seen me at my worst, after I’ve had to force myself out of bed for the first time in days to go to an appointment or through times when I’d been awake for three days straight. On days that I had decided would be my last but somehow never were. You even visited me in hospital when I had given up all hope.

But we’ve also laughed. About the bad artwork and talked about greys anatomy and tv shows. In these brief moments, you made me feel human.

So, thank you. Thank you for showing me that it’s possible for someone to care for me. Thank you for showing me that I can do this.


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