It just took time. I had to come to see and believe that he was the same in the new space, and that our relationship was the same. And I had to just sit and look at those stupid chairs, and be mad at them, that they weren't my old "safe" chairs. And my teenaged part wrote a poem about the new chairs and I read it to him. And it was fine after a couple of weeks.

I don't know that it's about not being good at change. I moved five times in childhood and would say I'm relatively adaptable to change. For me, it had to do with a sense of safety. Because of trauma, I never really carried a sense of safety within me, and didn't really feel it in the world, either. And it wasn't until we worked together for a long time, that I felt a sense of safety. And I felt it in his office like I felt nowhere else in the world. So to have that space disrupted was really hard.

But ultimately, I think it was good, because it helped me see that it wasn't really the space that was safe, but the relationship, and also, that I have the ability to keep myself safe and/or get back to safety (that lesson has taken a long time to learn, and his space changing was only a small part of learning that, but I think it's a critical lesson).