Dear T

The two bad days have become six bad days and there's no end in sight. It wasn't a tantrum which made me cancel my appointment. I cancelled because I know there's a good chance that at 4pm tomorrow, you won't be there, and I will be left in your waiting room. This is the nature of your Fridays right now- you should not really have anyone scheduled at 4pm because you haven't allowed yourself enough time to get back to the office for 4. Maybe I should feel lucky that you squeezed me in, whereas so many others must have lost a session this week. But it's not ok with me. Everything else- the texts, the phone calls, the emails, the gifts- is given freely by you, and it's yours to take away as you please. It hurts, but I know that's true.

But the one hour a week which I pay for? That's mine to have. You've always been really good at that, but recently it feels like it's a creeping problem. There was the session in January when you just didn't show up and I had to lie about feeling ill so I could leave uni early to come back later that day. There was the session in February when you trampled all over me and then said it was because you'd had a crap day. There was last Friday when I sat in your waiting room for 35 minutes while you decided to make a telephone call. I'm asking you for one hour a week which you honour instead of treating it casually. Show up, put aside your own problems, and make it about me. I'm sorry if that's too demanding, but that's what I need and what I think is reasonable to expect.