Therapist Stories Novels & Stories

“I never really… I mean, I’ve tried, but it felt… weird. I stopped.” His smirk deepened, the piercing catching the light. “That explains a lot.” I gawked at him. “You’re supposed to be a therapist. Aren’t you meant to be… professional?” “I am being professional,” he said smoothly. “You came here because your ex called you boring. My job is to find out why you think that’s true. And right now, I see a woman who’s been too afraid to even touch herself. Tell me, Alessia - how can you expect to please anyone else when you don’t even know how to please yourself?”

It stopped being a fire that consumed me and became the fuel that kept me warm. Maya became my lifeline. She visited me every day. She brought me books on corporate law, on business strategy, and on psychology. She sat by my bed while I screamed through the nightmares, holding my hand until I stopped shaking. "You need to let it go to heal," a therapist told me once. I fired him. I didn't want to heal. I wanted to burn. I devoted myself to the only thing that mattered: rewriting my story. I started from zero. Actually, less than zero. I was a ghost with no name, no money, and a face that felt foreign to the touch.

It held him. And one by one, others stood. A teenage girl who’d fled an abusive household and still wore sleeves even in the summer. A grandmother who’d raised her grandchildren in secret while battling cancer. A gay priest who hadn’t told a soul that he once contemplated suicide in the pulpit. Each story cracked something open. And not just in the room. But in me. Because even now, after all these years, I was still learning. Still softening. Still healing. River – POV There was a moment near the end of the third day when I looked out across the room and saw what Rewrite had become.

"You're finally here, Ginny. There's one client who's been waiting for you for ages," Luke Smith said. I'd just arrived at the store when he—the store manager—pulled me aside. "One of the clients came and specifically requested for your services. He's already waiting in the private room." He looked around, then whispered, "He brought some tools with him. I think… You should probably watch out for him. Keep yourself safe." I, Ginny Vine, was surprised to hear that. I was a love therapist, and what I mainly did was allow clients to experience what it felt like to be in love by interacting with them. Certain physical contact wasn't explicitly mentioned but was expected.

, he said, smiling pleasantly. “So I heard the internet is so garrulous”, she said playfully, and they both laughed. “I am glad you got over the hurdles”, the therapist said excitedly. “Of course, I am glad too”, Liam responded instantly. “Please take a seat, Mr Hickson”, she said, pointing towards the sofa. Liam sat down smiling brightly at her “I have missed your coffee”. The therapist blushed furiously. “I bet you must have; I almost lost confidence in myself when one of my new clients refused to take my coffee”.

I stood up from the white plastic chair and stared at the book the therapist was using to write some of my statements. "Are you leaving?" She asked. "I am only taking a walk, ma," I laughed. "I have been meeting you for almost a month now and I don't know your name. Do you mind telling me your name?" "I don't mind," the therapist smiled. "My name is Sarah." "Well, Sarah, I got to go." "Take care, Perer." "Take care, too."

I seated myself across of her, without introductions, i said, "Before we start this; first, I am not here for therapy. Second, your assistant is really hot. And third, I am here to ask you about one of your previous patients." She smiled at my words and lightly shook her head. Lines had formed on the side of her eyes and under it showing that she's been doing this for quite sometime. "First, you actually look you need some therapy. Second, I can give you her number and third, Sorry, I am not allowed to discuss any of my patients with anyone." I shook my head, "You don't understand, it's important. He is my brother and I want to help him. He wouldn't tell me what happened but maybe you can. I

Christabel blurted out. "But I think he likes you sha. I have seen the way he looks at you. That's the look of a guy in love." "Osheyy love therapist." Michelle chuckled. "Shut the fuck up abeg." Christabel sneered. I could imagine her rolling her eyes. I just pray it doesn't fall off. "Okay, guys. Thanks for helping me out." I said sarcastically while rolling my eyes. "Ade should be here very soon. Bye. I'll talk to you guys later.

7 It will be a one-time thing. I already know it will. If the therapist tells me about regular follow-up, I'll let him know my schedule is too tight and we won't meet. He won't blame me. I have that innocent look that makes people forgive me. I can feel their sadness, but they all tell me, 'That's life. It happens '. I always get away with it. But for now, I am stuck, and there is no way out of this crazy situation.

"Hi, you must be Erin please take a seat; I'm just going to introduce myself. I know this can all be a little overwhelming at first, but I want you to know this is all about you, and you only tell l me what you feel comfortable with, okay hunni. I nod my head as I sit on the edge of the chair, not sure what to say; the doctor senses my unease as she carries on talking. "Well, my name is Sarah, Dr Sarah Laine. I'm a therapist. I started training after my own experience; when I was younger, I lost my parents in a traumatic experience leaving me as an orphan. If it hadn't been for a woman named Mary, a therapist at the children home where I lived, I don't think I would have survived; I wanted