I don't think T ever said anything to make me feel better. He just listened and understood and let me say what I needed to say and feel what I needed to feel.

But I do think the magic of therapy sometimes is this: we bring things into the light and share them with another person, and somehow, they get smaller and a little less scary. And we do it again and again until it may be a passing fear/thought/memory/whatever, but it doesn't have the power to grab us in the same way.

In my head, it's so dark and formless - things can get so big in there and spiral around forever. Every time I bring something into the light and show it to T, I find out it's more manageable than I thought.