Dear uni therapist,

Today's session filled me with an inexplicable sadness. I got home and just sat and stared at the floor, thinking about you and feeling sad.

Maybe I'm just very tired from all the migraines I've been having, or maybe another episode of depression is in the works. Or perhaps it's because we talked about how my parents continue to shower me with the same criticism I have heard a thousand times before, criticism I have internalised and use to beat myself up on a daily basis. You pointed out again that you think it is killing me, and that you wish you could say that to my father. I found myself thinking about how amazing it would be if you actually sat down to have a conversation with him, and I guess it made me a little bit sad to realise that that will never happen. And I'm so tired of having to listen to the same speeches over and over again about everything I do wrong, and there is no point in arguing back because he has the "answers" to everything, anyway. I wish someone could do it for me, and you would be perfect.

I wish you could be my second mum. That's pathetic, isn't it?