The first hour

We've only spent an hour together, so I know it may be too soon to be hopeful.

But I liked you. I liked having that hour with you.

But more than that, I felt like maybe you could help me find a way out of this forest of shit I am dealing with at the moment.

I'm not entirely sure what it was - the way you kept track of the names I used, the way you did not look phased at some of the more shocking things I prance out at a first therapy meeting, the way you gently chided me for an action I deserved to be chided for and did not back down when I glared at you.

I mean - lets face it. I am a hell of an intimidating subject to take on. When you asked about my "history" and I started to laugh - finally saying "Do you want from birth - or simply the last three years?" - You took me head on. "Start with now" you said "and we'll work our way back." I've been in therapy for 19 years - that alone makes me more knowledgeable and self aware than some of the therapists I have interviewed.

You are tiny. I towered over you in my three inch heels. I also decided I hated your shoes and purse moments after you called me into your office. I can be a miserable judgemental bitch, you know. A pretentious snob, I believe is the name used.

Maybe it was when you nodded as I talked about my post partum experiences. Maybe it was when I talked about how I actively planned to kill my baby - but only held back because I didn't want to go to jail, not because I considered infanticide wrong and you didn't even lower your eyes.

Maybe it was when you asked why I had terminated the other three therapists and I told you - one didn't listen to me and was pushing lithium - one didn't challenge me enough - and one was all right, until I felt judged by him. He was the last one. Who had the good grace to at least look a little bashful when he saw me today.

I don't know. When you asked me at the end if I felt we could work well together....I was pleased. First - not a one of the others had asked that. You clearly respected my ability to judge what I needed as a patient...and it isn't a mother. I need a partner in this next part of my soul journey. It is going to be a hell of a rugged road - my resistance to going back to therapy coupled with my weird quirk of picking at spots on my skin until I am raw and bleeding which have kicked into high gear - indicate that I am ready - if not entirely willing to leap into this .

This next part is hard...and I know from hard. So when I say Hard I mean that while I want to work, I will most likely fight you - kicking and screaming - as you help me drag my sorry ass to the next level.

So I called for another appointment today, after three weeks of thinking about it. It was wise of you to leave it up to me to seek you out. I hope you're ready.