I was terrified and could prove that she was "one of them." I was certain I was standing up to every abusers I have had when I went to tell her I couldn't continue therapy. Though I was stark white with fear, I faced her. I confronted her. And we continued to talk. I left reassured, comforted and with an open door policy if I chose.
And for some reason I am sad. Very, very sad. My fears and paranoia were spacing off every which way. But I still faced her. And she accepted. A couple of times that I have been to therapy, I have walked away with a strong sense of my distorted view of people. Being that it has been confirmed over and over again, I have never had a reason to challenge it. And she does. Gently. But noticeably. Making me aware of my twisted thoughts that are as natural as breath. Yet, I sit up and take notice. Like when I walked out today. I have lived with so much bad, I don't know that anything is good. Maybe that is what is making me sad today.