"You are so brave. For what it's worth, and I mean this, I really admire you," she said to me today, eyes wide and arms open. "It takes so much courage, and it speaks volumes about the person you are deep down inside."
Her words sat in the pit of my stomach, taunting me like a lump in my throat threatening to unlodge itself with the onset of tears. It was the attention and validation I craved. I spent days wishing the weeks to pass. For time to rush me to that very moment.
I am so proud of you.
It was over in an instant.
I'm frightened by how much our relationship means to me, how safe I become. Is this a normal and expected byproduct of the therapeutic relationship, or an emotion unique to my experience with her? I am less aware of its existence than I am of the impending reality that, like all relationships of similar nature, it will end. Is the relationship itself the therapy? Or is it the byproduct of that relationship - security, comfort, love - that frightens me?