Dear T,

You work in a low/no fee center. Our days are numbered - were numbered from the day we met - by time and circumstance. I keep hoping you won't get any better job offers, but I know that's a foolish illusion, a false hope.

We've been through so much together, you and I; most of it you never knew about. The day I found out you were a Christian (Google...), I was furious. How dare you, my LGBTQ-friendly counsellor, be one of THEM? I saw it as a betrayal, at first. But I've grown accustomed to it, and have even rethought some of my long-held beliefs. I thank you for that.

The day I asked you to be there for the journey, do you remember that? It was the day I showed you my list of things that I've felt guilty for over the years. You seemed happy that I was finally asking you to be my ally. "Yes... capital Y.E.S." Thank you for that, too. That yes meant more than you could ever know.

Thank you... for everything. For understanding. For just being there. For not giving up on me. For working with me. Thank you for being you.

I'll be the first to admit I have... trust issues. My brain doesn't understand that you aren't going to hurt me. It takes your "what-if" questions and interprets them as if they really happened. It's been interesting, trying to gain/maintain trust when my brain is screaming at me to run, run as fast as I can. Especially when I also desperately want to be closer to you, to feel safe. I want to believe you won't hurt me, and yet, I can't.

Today I told you I was previously diagnosed as borderline. That was a difficult conversation to start with you. You already knew - that's ok, I had about a ninety percent confidence estimate that you did. You asked me why I didn't like talking about it, and I told you it was because of the stigma associated with it. That's true - especially, sadly, within the psychology community. I can understand why that stigma exists, but, well, it still hurts.

I also told you about how, when the psychologist diagnosed me, he immediately dismissed me as not important, not worth his time. I'm scared because I don't want you to shut me down, shut me out, like he did. I hope, dear T, that you heard what I couldn't say to you today. Please.

Today you also told me your colleague left, to start her own private practice. I hope, when you leave, that's why you leave. Maybe I could come with you. Maybe I could keep you as my therapist, then. I wouldn't be able to afford more than an hour or two a month. But it would be better than you going somewhere I couldn't follow... Assuming you would still want me as a client, when you have an option and I wasn't just assigned randomly to you by someone.

You're good enough to have your own practice, you know. I want that for you one day. But... not today, not soon. Not while I'm your client, working fifty five hours a week and still unable to pay you what you deserve. I'm being selfish, I know. But... I don't feel bad about it. I don't NEED you, any more than I NEED any other one particular person. But I still need you.

Please don't leave me.