I told T a few weeks ago that I don't want to accept my past, because I'm scared that if people know that my past is what it is, they'll think I'm crazy, and that *I'm* scared that I'm crazy.

My T literally, literally teared up. He put his hand over his heart. He said "I want to say this as gently as I can. You. are. not. crazy."

I play that moment over and over again in my head. It took me four years to say "I think I'm crazy", because it was so scary. And T so gently took it away.

You don't sound crazy to me, ((((((mcl))))))