Two Safe Places

I think I’ve found something I didn’t know I needed:
Two places where I can be fully myself.

Not almost. Not performatively. Not carefully.
Fully.

With both of the therapists I currently work with, I’ve found something rare: spaces where I can speak without filtering, feel without justification, and reflect without being projected onto. I don’t feel judged. I don’t feel analysed. I don’t feel like I have to shape my experience into something more palatable for someone else’s comfort.

And the interesting part is… they know of each other. I don’t think either of them knows I work with the other, but I sense they hold mutual professional respect. I feel completely safe in sharing that if I ever choose to. There’s no tension around it—just a quiet trust that it would be received with grace.

That in itself feels like healing.

Because for so long, I’ve been met with misattunement. With projection. With subtle invalidations dressed up as professionalism.
And now? I can sit in a room—or send a message—and know it’ll be received cleanly. Without twisting. Without power games. Without hidden agendas.

Just presence. Just respect.

And maybe that’s what I needed all along. Not someone to “fix” me. Just someone who wouldn’t turn away from the parts I was learning to hold.

I’ve spent so much of my life feeling like I needed to explain myself.
But now, in these two safe places, I don’t have to.
I just get to be.

And that changes everything.