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"Where would you like to sit today, Rosie?" Anita asked, her tone as gentle as always as she gestured between the sofa and her desk. She always gave me the choice, every session, as she'd done for many years.

"Um...sofa is okay today," I said, and she gestured for me to sit.

She took the space in the armchair across from me, and adjusted her blazer as she sat. Anita's blonde hair mirrored the tone of mine save for her beach-wave curls. Her kind, gentle demeanor soothed me, and created the safe space I appreciated. She wasn't like my other doctors and therapists over the years. There was something genuine about her that the others lacked.

I spent some time catching her up on the past month or so, including introducing her to Sam's entry into my life.

"It sounds like Sam is a different relationship for you," she reflected, a soft smile on her face while she leaned her chin on her hand.

"She is." I nodded, smiling while I thought about her. "She's waiting for me outside."

"Is she?"

I nodded again. "She's a doctor, too. So naturally, she's suspicious of your abilities."

Anita chuckled, a single brow lifting with it. "Well, I hope you give me a favorable review."

"You know it. I have to tell you something though. Two things," I said, nervousness tightening my gut.

"This is a safe place, Rosie. You can talk about whatever you like."

"Okay…" I searched in my purse and pulled out the prescription bottle with both our names on it. "I haven't taken any of these in a long time." She accepted the bottle when I handed it to her and turned it over in her palm.

"Did you have any side effects when you stopped it?"

"No. I didn't take it every day." I bit my bottom lip. "Is it okay to not take it?"

"Of course, Rosie. Clonazepam is meant to help with anxiety and panic. If you're not having that, your need for it is less. Have you felt less anxious?" She handed me back the bottle and I held it in my lap.

"Yes. If I am, I feel like I can handle it. I think Sam has helped. She's taught me a lot and my confidence is better."

"I'm very happy to hear that, Rosie." Anita smiled, folding her hands in her lap. "I have an idea, perhaps."

"Okay." I gestured for her to continue.

"Why don't we change your medicine to PRN or as needed? That way, you still have it if you need it, but don't feel the pressure to take it every day."

"Okay." I agreed right away and met her gaze again. "We can do that."

"If you end up taking it daily for more than a few days, please call me and don't stop it abruptly, all right?" Her forehead wrinkled with her question.

"Okay. I won't."

"Remember you can have withdrawal symptoms if you do that."

"I remember." For some reason, her caution always came across as caring rather than speculative or untrusting. I appreciated it.

"Good. I'm happy to hear that you're doing better managing your anxiety."

"Thanks." I smiled and tucked the bottle back into my purse.

"What was the other thing you'd like to discuss?"

"My birth mother is up for parole," I blurted out without any warm up. "I got letters asking me to appear at the parole hearing. To say why I don't want her released. Rebecca said she would get an advocate to do it."

"But part of you wants to face her and tell her how you feel?" Anita's single raised brow gave life to my inner battle that I hadn't spoken much about.

"Yeah." I toyed with the leather handle of my bag.