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You gave me tools. You gave me homework. I nodded like I understood. But the moment I walked out the door, the dissociation kicked in. The hour we spent together felt like a dream I couldn’t quite recall. I was too ashamed to admit that I wasn’t retaining the help you were giving me.
Even in a judgment-free zone, the fear lingers. I didn’t tell you about the intrusive thought. I didn’t tell you about the thing I did three years ago that still makes me cringe. I didn’t tell you that sometimes I don’t want to get better—because my sadness has become a strange, familiar blanket. the things i didn 39-t say in therapy free download pdf
And then, the clock starts ticking.
There is a strange power dynamic in therapy. You know everything about my trauma, and I know nothing about yours. I wanted to ask: Do you ever get home and cry? Have you ever felt this hopeless? Do you actually like me, or am I just a case file? You gave me tools
