Today’s session was intense, but in a way that left me more with myself than against myself.

It actually started before the session even began.
My therapist called at 12:25, confused and flustered, asking where I was — thinking our session was meant to start at 12:15.
But I knew it was 12:30. And for the first time in a situation like this, I didn’t doubt myself.

I didn’t abandon my reality to keep someone else comfortable.
I didn’t collapse into confusion or apologize just to smooth things over.
I simply said, “No — it’s 12:30. I’ll see you soon.”

She was clearly disoriented — not malicious, just human — and I could see that.
And instead of interpreting it as an attack or a test, I held space for both of us.
I met her dysregulation with steadiness.
I didn’t need to fix it.
I didn’t need to make it about me.
I just stayed present.

And that felt quietly huge.

In the session itself, I thanked her — genuinely — for helping me access emotions I didn’t think I could.
She told me I stand out among her clients because of my depth, my commitment to growth, to figuring myself out.

And I wondered:

Is that a compliment… or a coping mechanism?

Am I trying to heal something that isn’t broken?
Is this effort rooted in love or shame?
Maybe it’s both.

We talked about how I bring many parts of myself into therapy — intensity, emotion, insight — parts I rarely show anywhere else.
And I voiced a quiet fear: what if I’m too much?

She used a metaphor — that I walk up to the door of what I want, only to run away.

But I don’t think that’s quite it.
I’ve opened the door, again and again.
I’ve invited people in.
It’s just that I keep choosing people who confirm that the door should stay shut.

We talked about Level 4 — and how I don’t feel much excitement.
Maybe I’m protecting myself until it’s real.
Or maybe part of me just isn’t that invested anymore.

We also talked about energy.
How I’m becoming more discerning about where I give it.
And how healing it was to hear that my mental health was never in question.
Danny’s feedback grounded me more than I expected.

And something tender came up too:
I still want my old therapist to be proud of me.
I want to impress him.
And I’m learning not to be ashamed of that.

I left the session feeling something unfamiliar but deeply welcome: gratitude without collapse.

Gratitude for being met.
Gratitude for being able to hold space for someone else — without losing myself.
Gratitude for every quiet test that confirms how far I’ve come.

Because I used to walk up to the door and run.

Now, I’m learning to stay.
With others.
With the discomfort.
With myself.

🪞Reflection Prompt:
Have there been moments lately where you didn’t abandon your reality?
What helped you stay with yourself?