At the request of my husband, my sister, my friends, some of my coworkers, and even an old family friend from my childhood, I have started therapy again.
Therapy has been one of the best things in my life to turn it around. It’s also super anxiety-inducing for me to meet a new therapist.
I’m used to people contradicting things I say, or nitpicking them, or just straight up not believing me when I talk about the trauma and weirdness of my childhood. My baseline assumption is that no one is going to believe me if I speak up. This is, of course, the false assumption planted by the circumstances of my childhood. My parents were respected and well liked (until they weren’t, story another time). They were thought of as excellent parents. I was often told how lucky I was to have them. Ugh. Just ugh.
So, my assumption with someone new is that they *won’t* believe me… Even though they probably will. Even though I’ve never had a counselor even imply I was lying. But it’s still a fear.