I also look forward to T and then dread it just before which is weird as it must be worse for my T, he doesn't know what mood I'm going to be in or what I might be about to bring into his room.

I wish I could go twice a week but I can't really afford it, and my T is fully booked anyway.

*

Dear T,

I wish you were my dad. Sometimes I pretend you are.

You know when you interrupted me and I said: "Oi, did they not teach you about listening in therapist school?" I'm glad you laughed and didn't get cross, or even pretend to be cross. Because, after I said it, I was frightened and I wanted to hide.