Our relationship is fake, like a special effect in a movie. It gives the impression of being a deep interaction, but you dont really exist outside the 45 minutes and you are proud you have the "firmest" boundaries of all the psychologists in town. I observe your boundaries, and sit in the stair well in tears, trying to fix my face and make up for work. You never know about that, my secret experience of therapy. what would happen if you sat with one of your patients (you dont like "client" ) and saw the world from one of those stairs, looking at the old brick ? I once told you how hard the transition was back to realize, and you said well you can sit in the waiting room.Do you care about your job, about me? have you heard so many hard awful stories they are woodwork to you? I am considering quitting therapy, even though I respect and adore you. You're not there for me, and you promised you would be right by me. I am considering changing therapists, to someone lower powers & maybe sweeter of manner, but I do know I have improved with you and that you have worked hard, been perceptive and always prepared in session. Every interaction with you ends in a lot of anguish- on and on .Dunno. I am sad, and you dont care- you care when it is my turn. Is that a healthy gender role- the male sends away the female peer/patient in tears daily and then doest call or ever check on the damage?