Dear Debbie:

First, about what your therapist said—“Shame on you for judging your nephew”—

That phrase is deeply loaded. In therapy, shame is often the very wound people are trying to heal. It should never be used as a tool against the client.

Even if your therapist didn’t intend harm, saying “shame on you” crosses a line. It’s a moral judgment, not a therapeutic intervention. Therapists are trained to avoid language that shames or blames—especially when someone is working through trauma or relational pain. That kind of phrasing can shut down vulnerability, trigger old wounds, and make the space feel unsafe.

A trauma-informed therapist would have recognized that your anger wasn’t just about your nephew—it was connected to deeper pain. Instead of honoring your emotional clarity and protective instincts, the focus was redirected to your nephew’s possible suffering. That kind of reversal can feel invalidating, even disorienting.

While this may not qualify as a formal ethical violation, it does raise important concerns: emotional safety, attunement to trauma, and the power dynamics in the room—especially when a therapist uses shaming language and then backpedals without repair.

So let me say this clearly: you’re not overreacting. Your discomfort is real, and your instincts are trustworthy. That phrasing was inappropriate, full stop.

Even when a client has acted in harmful ways (which is not true in your case), the therapist’s role is to explore the why, not shame the who. There are ways to invite accountability that still honor dignity—like asking, “What do you feel when you think about that moment?” or “Can we explore how that may have affected the other person?” These kinds of questions open doors, rather than shutting them.

Some therapeutic styles do use challenge or confrontation—but never shaming. Even in intense moments, the language must stay rooted in respect and curiosity.

Again: shame is often the wound. It should never be the weapon.

Now, about your relationship with your nephew—

Your instinct to protect yourself, to journal through the pain, and to set boundaries is not only valid—it’s wise. Taking space wasn’t about punishment; it was about clarity. You recognized that his actions stirred something unresolved in you, and instead of reacting impulsively, you chose distance. That’s not avoidance—it’s discernment.

You didn’t lash out. You didn’t demand anything. You simply chose not to reach out as you normally would. That’s a boundary. Quiet, clear, and rooted in self-respect.

And the way you processed your anger—through writing, reflection, and self-inquiry—is a beautiful example of emotional maturity. You honored your truth without needing to make anyone else responsible for it. That’s emotional sovereignty: staying loyal to yourself, even when others might not understand.

Emotional intelligence isn’t just about empathy or communication—it’s about knowing what you need, honoring your limits, and responding to pain with clarity instead of chaos. You did all of that. And it’s not just valid—it’s powerful.

With warmth and respect, Anita

Thank you, Dafne! Got to run- won’t be by the computer for the rest of the day. Will get back to you tomorrow. 💖

Anita

Dear Dafne:

Just wanted to reach out to you this Thurs night- here (just past 10 pm). Wanted to let you know that I know that it’s not that you are Problem, and here, someone has Solution.

We’re all struggling in different ways. You and I, Dafne, we both are equals in our quest for clarify and understanding.. and solutions. I am with you, Dafne, am on your side in this crazy, crazy world.

I hope this is not too much.

Anita

Eva, I just read that are, or were panicking 10 minutes ago. I will reply further next, but for now- please take a cold or hot shower, or go for a walk outside.. something to redirect your attention..?

Anita

Hi Tom:

It’s really good to hear from you!!!

I am well, thank you, staying active and dealing well with the warm-hot weather.

I’m glad you’ve been finding ways to stay grounded and present, especially through your garden project and time with your dog and partner. That kind of nourishment matters more than we often realize.

Turning 40 next March feels like a powerful threshold. I hear your longing for purpose and authenticity in your work, and I believe that desire is already guiding you toward something more aligned. You deserve to feel like yourself—not just outside of work, but within it too.

Please feel free to reach out anytime with updates or reflections. I’d love to keep walking alongside you in whatever way feels right.

With care, Anita

Dear Peace:

On April 9 this year (end of the previous page), I wrote to you: “Dear Peace: It will be a dream come true to read from you again. Can it happen?”- and 4 months and 16 das later, my dream came true!

I am thrilled to read that you are happily married with a 6-month-old baby boy 🎉👏🌟🥳🙌💐🏆🎊💫🍾🎈✨💖

I am fine, danced last Saturday under the open sky to live music and had so much fun! This afternoon I am happy to be reading from you!

Don’t be a stranger and keep me updated about your life..?

Happy to be reading from you again- Anita

Dear Dafne:

Your words moved me deeply. Thank you for receiving mine with such openness and tenderness. To know that something I shared helped you feel less alone, helped you stay in this life and try again—that means more than I can say.

You’ve shown such courage in naming your truth, in staying present with your pain, and in allowing connection to reach you even when it’s hard. That’s not just resilience—it’s a quiet kind of brilliance. And I see it in you.

I’m honored to walk beside you, Dafne. Not as someone who has it all figured out, but as someone who believes in your right to take up space, to be heard, to be held. You are not alone. You are not too much. You are not too late.

May your days be filled with the kind of peace you’ve been brave enough to seek. And may your voice continue to rise—clear, strong, and beautifully yours.

With care and solidarity 🤍🫶 Anita

Hi Miss L Dutchess:

I’m really sorry you went through so much pain and loneliness, especially during times when you were trying your best. You deserved better support, and it’s completely okay to feel angry or sad about that.

I’m glad you do have some friendships that remind you of your worth.

Getting a diagnosis later in life brings up a lot—relief, grief, and all the “what ifs.” You’re not alone in that. I’ve lived with Tourette Syndrome (visible motor tics and audible vocal tics) since I was… maybe five, maybe six—I honestly don’t remember. And yet, I wasn’t diagnosed until I was 26. That’s nearly twenty years of people seeing and hearing the tics without anyone naming it.

I think I would’ve felt less like a freak of nature if an empathetic professional had told me there was a name for it—and ways to better accept it, even if not cure it. Maybe if I’d been diagnosed as a child and given information, I could’ve explained it to my classmates. Or better yet, maybe teachers would’ve explained it to the kids and made it clear that mocking me wasn’t okay and wouldn’t be tolerated. That would’ve been something. It would’ve made a huge difference in my life.

Sending warmth your way. You’re not alone.

—Anita