“Basically, I’d like you to imagine that this chair here”—she indicated the lone upright dining chair—“is your mother.”
She anticipated my response. “Now, I know this might feel silly, or embarrassing, but please, just try and go with it.
No one’s judging you here. This is a safe space.I twisted my hands together anxiously in my lap, mirroring the feeling in my stomach.
Are you willing to give it a try?I stared at the door, willing myself out of it, willing the hands of the clock to tick round to the hour.
“Eleanor,” she said gently, “I’m here to help you, and you’re here to help yourself, aren’t you?
I think you want to be happy. In fact, I know you do. Who doesn’t? We can work together in this room toward helping you achieve that.
It’s not going to be easy, or quick, but I really think it could be worth it. What have you got to lose, after all?
You’re going to be here for an hour either way. Why not give it a try?
She had made a fair point, I supposed. I looked up and slowly unfolded my arms.
“Great!” she said. “Thank you, Eleanor. So... let’s imagine that this chair here is your mother.
What do you want to tell her, right now? If you could say anything, right here, without being interrupted? Without fear of judgment?
Come on, don’t worry. Anything you like...
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