Dear No. 3,

It was two years ago today you let me leave a session suicidal. You ran the session really badly, which pushed me very close to the edge. Even though I warned you the effect it was having on me.

When I woke up this morning, I wanted to write you an email rant about it, but it would only give some short-term relief at best and wouldn’t help me long-term, and you—you live in a protective bubble world in which as a therapist you don’t understand what the big deal is when you make serious mistakes, much less know how to repair them. Suggestions and requests bounce off your bubble shield like Flubber.

And the really sick thing? If I could be your client again, despite everything, I would.

ATAT