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I once had a therapist who laughed – not just a chuckle but an unrestrained, full-bodied laughter. Initially, it took me by surprise. I thought therapy was a solemn endeavour, a place to unearth my deepest fears and sorrows. On a significant birthday she asked to see photos of my party, her eyes sparkling with excitement. She joked that we could have had a bottle of champagne in our session to celebrate (we didn’t but I appreciated the sentiment). She never missed an opportunity for shared joy.
Of course, we also did the hard work. She witnessed tears, frustration and confusion – often before 9.45am. She had seen a lot and had sat through a lot. She had been a tireless advoc...
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