Have I mentioned before how much I love this lady’s blog? It fills up my heart. A friend sent me this to read this weekend, and I felt it was worth reblogging. Love it.
I curse in session too regularly, and should probably be more ashamed of my potty mouth than I am.
I can talk frankly about anything from money to masturbation without blinking an eye.
I can discuss the darkest sins, the deepest shames, give words to feeling states that are subtle, terrifying, violent, kinky, mystical and murderous. I can use and parse my counter-transferential, intersubjective, empathic and projectively identified responses through some pretty tricky co-created therapeutic enactments.
But there is a word that I have almost never used
Even, (actually, especially) when I am near bursting with it.
I’ll speak all around it. I will, when the time is right and the relational necessity emerges, talk about feeling protective, allude to our connection our history, our alliance and hard work together, admit that I am touched, or deeply moved. I will share about the ways that…
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