I don't feel like I'm in love with my therapist, but I do honestly love him. I feel like I have three fractured parts to me- two of which are children aged 3 and 7. When I know is when the abuse started. I see him more as a parental figure than a therapist. He provides me with something, I never really had as a child growing up= safety. When I'm with him, I don't feel like I'm waking on eggshells. I don't have to second guess what kind of mood he's in and I know he will never snap at me no matter how much I rage at him. He has only ever really shown kindness, so I do find it hard being away from him out of session. Like a child I just want him me to comfort me when I'm upset. I want him there with me. I try not to contact him out of session as much as I can usually just one message a week which we talk about next session.

I spent the majority of today in tears. He was the one I thought of not my real parents. I spent today reading his blog posts and going through his website and photos which I found. The only information I know about him are things I've seen online which would be available to anyone- but I do feel obsessive: I've seen his twitter, linkedin and facebook accounts. I clicked on his wife's profile when he'd tagged her in a photo. I wanted to see what the rest of his home looked like (he works from home) and not just feel like Peter Pan peeking through the living room, whilst I waited on his doorstep. When I first googled his address old estate agent photos came up.

I guess all of this is just because I want to feel closer to him.