I closed my eyes and clenched my fists; although we were sat opposite each other face to face, I avoided the therapist’s gaze. But I focused intently on his words: “So, your mother worked, you say?” I nodded. That was followed by, “You must feel anxious around boys. Why is that?” I gritted my teeth in response and stayed silent.
I was always terrified before each session as I trudged up the stairs to his office – nervous someone might see me and realise why I was there. I never fully relaxed, my back stiff and my body tense the whole time.