The last session with my therapist was especially exhausting . . . and healing.
I meet this woman in a small room.
I sit comfortably in a chair and begin to take away the bricks, one by one, that I’ve buried for so long.
I tell her things no one but God knows.
It is difficult to find a safe space in which to lay down what I’m thinking and feeling without being judged by others. To speak of secrets never meant to be shared. To reflect of my inadvertent influence upon a young person, peer, or loving partner.
I’ve come to trust a complete stranger.