An ode to my therapist
An ode to my therapist therapy stories
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jennyp
jennyp Community member
Autoplay OFF   •   a year ago
A ~very~ short story about the first time I visited my therapist's office.

An ode to my therapist

I open the door to the lifeless clinic and find a seat in the corner. I'm sitting beneath an air conditioning unit, which intensifies the shaking but helps to dry the sweat on my forehead.

You can't win them all I suppose.

It is eerily quiet, but somehow soothing.

Time passes.

We walk into your office together. You tell me to have a seat in the armchair across from yours.

The seat smells overwhelmingly of body odour - a sign of what's to come perhaps? Will I become so vulnerable and anxious that I begin to perspire excessively?

My emotions seeping into the couch as though that's where they've belonged all along?

And so it begins. We talk, mostly me, you ask questions and fill in the gaps with "hmmms" and "ahh I sees'." You listen. It feels weird to have someone wholeheartedly listen for once.

We meditate. We reflect. We come up with goals.

I leave feeling fuller yet lighter than before. Like I had been holding my breath for months and I could finally exhale now.

You lightened the load and told me I could put some of the weight on you.

Although there is still doubt and fear, I can only hope that all sessions will be this freeing.

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