“I keep thinking about when we first started versus where you are now,” she was saying while I rested my head at an angle in one hand, listening while a little bit high and having so many more loose, easy, penetrating thoughts than usual.

“You had a lot more anxiety then,” she continued. “You were much more nervous. The social skills weren’t there nearly as much as they are now. You have a lot more confidence now… I don’t know if that’s more all the work you’ve put in, the skills we’ve worked on, talking about the underlying reasons, trial and error of seeing what works and what doesn’t work, the right med combination, or all of the above… and you were in therapy before that...”

“Two years before I started seeing you. Maybe two and a half,” I said. “I was just thinking about this while you were talking. I had more time in therapy before you than I’ve had in the entire time you and I have worked together. And that’s including the six months I was gone.”

“Yeah?”

“But I feel like I’ve come twice as far with you as I have in all the time before that put together,” I told her.

“That’s nice to hear,” she said.

“It’s because you’re sassy,” I said back.

Amelia burst out laughing. “Not because of my education…”

“You didn’t even need it. All you had to do was show up like this and-” I made a chef’s kiss motion. “...it would’ve worked.”

“...not because of my training…”

“Why did you even bother!”

“...not because of all my shadowing…”

“You were already the key, girl.”

“Kit!”

“What!”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

I love my therapist.

If she’s wearing slip ons, she’ll usually slip them off during our session and sit with her feet tucked under her across from me in an open chair facing the room with the desk against the wall, leaving the space between us unobstructed.

“It’s funny you say that. It really depends. I’m definitely not sassy around all my clients.”

“That’s a waste.”

“Well, some of my clients are a bit more to the point, and just want to work on skills and not have any of the banter.”

“I would not assign any of those people to you.”

She burst out laughing again.

“If I was your supervisor- in fact, where is your supervisor? I have notes.”

I don’t remember all the exact details of how the conversation went for a bit, but I remember that we were talking about all the different ways she is around her other clients.

Maybe I was too busy thinking about how she wasn’t talking about me, so it wasn’t my favorite subject anymore, and so I was paying a little bit less attention.

Not no attention, come on.

Just slightly less.

I was listening at the time, I just didn’t put as much of it in my memory bank! I’m sorry, I’m working on it.

Anyways.

The next part of this article is titled: “We Started Talking About You.”