Two weeks ago, I returned to my ex therapist office. She agreed to be interviewed at the last minute because of a state official backing out. I had not been in her office for over four years, a place where I spent over 400 hours in 18 months.

As I reflect back, I thought I should've had many feelings about being back in her office where my emotions spilled so profusely leaving me vulnerable time and again. I had none. All the hours I used to spend looking at every nook and cranny, every book tittle, or object placed about, did not come back. The only thing I noticed was the color of the wall (it looks darker than before, but I can't be sure), and my therapist.

I had no overwhelming or noticeable emotional feelings at seeing her at the scene of the crime. I was happy to see her and grateful she agreed to the interview at the last moment. I wanted to get started because my schedule was tight, and do a good job. I was not nervous at all. I had asked two days before if she wanted to see the questions in advance, she said it was up to me if I wanted to send them, and I did.

The interview went well. At the end, I showed her another project I was working on. It was on my phone so she got up and sat next to me on the sofa.

The sofa was where we had spent many intimate hours slugging through attachment therapy: me crying, pushing and pulling her away, me screaming, telling her how mean and uncaring she was, etc. But, more importantly it was a spot on the couch that I always knew I was welcomed, no matter how much money I had or didn't have, how childish I was behaving or adulting. All of me was welcomed, nothing rejected, even when I experienced ET.

As I shared with her the almost finished project, nothing embarrassed me, nothing shamed me, and nothing overwhelmed me. She had very positive expressions throughout the viewing, but when she saw the dedication page, and it was to her, she smiled widely and turned to me and gave me a big hug.

Still nothing from our past relationship on that couch was activated. Just feelings of two friends that appreciate each other.

I think the safety and security that I got from therapy has been absorbed into my body just like the traumas my body remembered from my early years that left me wondering aimlessly in deep pain through most of my adulthood. Only now, the pain is gone and my body remembers the good stuff.

I also remember clearly years ago when I told her with a feeling of terror, that one day she would throw me off the couch. I'm glad she was willing to go the distance with me.