Inside the Therapy Room
Published: January 9, 2026
As she walked into the room, I was awed.
Not in a dramatic way—
but in the quiet way presence sometimes announces itself.
She was well put together. Her clothes were simple, intentional.
She carried herself with ease, the kind that comes from knowing yourself.
A soft, almost heavenly scent followed her—warm, grounding, familiar.
She smiled before sitting down.
Then she laughed, a little cheekily, and said,
“I know what you’re wondering.”
She paused.
“I don’t look like someone who needs therapy.”
She leaned back and added,
“And I know you’re wondering why I’m here.”
____________________________________________________________________________________
There was no crisis in her voice.
No urgency.
Instead, there was curiosity.
“I’m okay,” she said slowly.
“But something has changed… and I don’t know what to do with that.”
She spoke about friendships that once felt tight—inseparable, intense, necessary.
Friendships formed in seasons of struggle.
When survival felt uncertain.
When connection meant safety.
“We leaned on each other a lot,” she said.
“We talked all the time. We needed each other.”
She hesitated.
“Now we don’t talk as much.
There’s no conflict. No falling out.
Just… space.”
She looked up and asked the question so many people carry quietly:
“Is something wrong with me?”
____________________________________________________________________________________
I told her gently,
“Nothing is wrong.”
Then I offered a frame.
“In psychology,” I said, “we understand that human beings move through different levels of need over time.”
I explained that in early or difficult seasons of life, much of our energy goes into:
-emotional safety
-belonging
-reassurance
-being held by others
“At those stages,” I continued,
“friendships often sit at the level of survival and belonging.
They are close, frequent, intense—because they are meeting essential needs.”
She nodded slowly.
“That was us,” she said.
“We needed each other to get through.”
____________________________________________________________________________________
“As people grow,” I went on,
“their needs begin to shift.”
Drawing from ideas described in A Theory of Human Motivation, I explained:
“When safety and belonging are more secure, people naturally move toward higher needs—esteem, meaning, purpose, self‑actualisation.”
At those levels:
-regulation becomes more internal
-identity becomes clearer
-urgency reduces
-dependence softens
“And when needs change,” I said,
“relationships often change function.”
____________________________________________________________________________________
Her friendships, I explained, had not been lost.
They had completed a role.
“They were built to support survival and belonging,” I said.“But now you are operating from a place of stability and meaning.”
Friendship no longer needed to:
-rescue-reassure
-stabilise
Instead, it could simply exist.
Less frequent.
Less intense.
More spacious.
Not because care was gone—
but because survival was no longer the task.
____________________________________________________________________________________
She was quiet for a moment.
“So we didn’t grow apart?” she asked.
“No,” I said softly.
“You grew up the hierarchy of needs.”
She exhaled, something loosening in her shoulders.
“There’s grief in that,” she said.
“Yes,” I replied.
“Because you’re saying goodbye to a season—not a person.”
____________________________________________________________________________________
She sat with that.
“I think I came here,” she said finally,
“because I needed permission.”
“Permission for what?”
“To let friendships change… without blaming myself.”
____________________________________________________________________________________
She stood to leave, steady and thoughtful.
At the door she turned and smiled.
“I didn’t come because something was broken,” she said.
“I came because I’m growing.”
____________________________________________________________________________________
🌫 Sitting with the Space Between
In the therapy room, we often sit with the space between.
The space between:
who you were and who you are becoming
closeness and distance
survival and meaning
being okay and wanting more
This space can feel confusing because nothing is wrong —
yet nothing feels the same.
The space between is not a problem to fix.
It is a place to understand.
If you find yourself here, you are not failing.
You are listening.
And that is reason enough to sit in the therapy room.
____________________________________________________________________________________
Optimum Life Choices
Feel. Think. Heal.
