The first time I cried in my own therapy, my therapist didn't say a word

The first time I cried in my own therapy, my therapist didn't say a word.

I waited for the tissue box. For a soft "take your time" or "that sounds so hard." Nothing. She just sat there with me, quiet. I couldn't stand it.

All I could think was: Should I keep talking? Did I just make this weird? Do I look ridiculous? Is she bored of me?

It took me a while to understand what that quiet was. It was room. Room to stay with the thing I'd normally shut down so I could look fine again.

Think back to crying in front of someone as a kid. Someone probably jumped in quick. Fixed it, hushed it, changed the subject. "Don't cry." "You're okay." "Pull yourself together."

What a lot of us heard underneath was: your tears make me uncomfortable, please stop.

So we learned to handle our feelings before they became a problem for anyone else. Swallow it. Smile. Make a joke. Cry in the shower where nobody hears.

That’s why, when you sit across from me in my office, my whole job is to do the opposite. I let you have the moment, all of it, without making it mine to fix or yours to apologize for.

That’s how your body starts to learn it can feel something all the way through and still be safe.

So if I go quiet while you cry, let the quiet be. You deserve to know what it feels like to not have to pull yourself together for anyone.

If reading this made your chest tighten a little, that quiet you're scared of might be exactly what you need.

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