baby, you can start again

[warmandsad]

 Halfway to Alana's, Abby wondered what the hell she was doing.

Sure, the woman seemed perfectly trustworthy, but above all she was still a therapist, and they hadn't boded particularly well for Abby in the past. Not to mention, she'd want to know, and she'd want to know it all, and there were things that were hard enough to admit to oneself let alone others. No matter how fancy their certifications.

Still, she'd made the appointment and felt pretty much obliged. If it was completely terrible, she couldn't be forced to return. It wasn't court ordered, or anything, just a last ditch effort at stopping feeling so fucking sad, and confused, and guilty.

Knocking on the door, Abby inhaled sharply. She crossed her arms tightly against her chest and waited. 

Comments

[professionalcuriosity]

Though it means wresting herself from her papers, Alana finds she prefers not having a receptionist. Answering the door herself is more personable, and it sets the tone she wants for these appointments, one which she hopes her clients find welcoming. It isn't her job to be their friend, but she does want them to know they can trust her.

Though Abby scheduled this appointment, it comes as a relief to Alana to see her there when she goes to open the door. She wouldn't have been at all surprised if Abby had turned out to be the kind of patient who needs to be coaxed, who calls and confirms and cancels, calls and confirms and cancels, like a half-feral cat. It doesn't bother her that some people need that. Therapy is an immense undertaking, and one that can be painful. That's precisely why she's pleased, though. It suggests that Abby wants this, and that's the only way she'll make progress.

"Hello, Abby," she says, smiling. "Please, come right in. How are you today?"