You saw me in a different time slot, only the second time in two years we met at anything but 9am. 3pm- you are still you and I am still me, turns out. I've been soul-searching about why you are so threatening and life-affirming to me at once. I am afraid to talk to you about some subjects, but you have grounded me through nightmarish topics and dig deeply into the past and my unconscious with your kindharshness/ harshkindess. You can be tender, and let your eyes fill up with tears , but this is rare. What the fear boils down to is questions about your authenticity- who you are. The very act of hiding this alerts my nervous system to be on guard , even as you say in a voice made quiet by perplexity how can I have any fear left when you have never ever hurt me. You know the extremity of my background situation, and you explain things through that lens. Really though, I want to tell you how many times you alienate me with the chitchat you must do all day. " Oh we thought when we bacame parents we would not be the kind of people who talk about our kids all the time. But we can't help ourselves " accompanied by a proud-of-yourself, self-indulgent smile. You don't seem to hear this through my ears, how unwelcome this is. You dislike dogs, and I live with a tribe of them. You send me out in the streets in tears. You ruin my day, and save my life. You're so funny, witty as anything and you can make me laugh through floods of tears with the gallows black humor. You taught me not to love you. You taught me that your language of care is being there in your office as reliably as the earth spins. When it comes down to my most vulnerable thoughts- fear v trust- the fear wins. You are compassionate but you act out compassion too like an actor, a very good one. You're smug that what happened to me can never happened to your daughter. It is that one thing that makes you unsafe amidst all the good you do for me.