Page 73 of Unconditionally Yours

Client displays an internal conflict between genuine emotional needs and maladaptive coping mechanisms.

Appears highly attuned to perceived rejection or abandonment, which may drive escalating behaviors.

Next Steps:

Continue monitoring for escalation in boundary-violating behavior.

Explore family and developmental history to better understand attachment dynamics.

Utilize journaling content as a bridge to build emotional insight and redirect focus away from performance.

Maintain strong therapeutic boundaries and provide psychoeducation on healthy relationship models.

Encourage participation in group therapy with an emphasis on reflection over performance.

Clinical Shitshow

Private Notes – Session 2: Delilah P. Darling

For destruction. Probably via fire. Or drowning. Or swallowing.

Location:My office. Again.

Duration:60 minutes. Felt like edging for fifty-nine.

Mood:Professionally fucked

She walked in like she owns the building. The country. My cock.

Skirt shorter than last time. Legs crossed high enough to make God leave the room. She sat like temptation had a certification and came with silk stockings and lipstick designed to make men forget where they parked their souls.

And I saw it. I didn’t look. But I saw.

I am a professional. I am a therapist. I am a man with a license and a folder full of ethics. But my dick has apparently seceded from the union and filed a motion to serve her immediately.

And my brain, my very qualified, deeply trained, trauma-informed, PhD-earned brain, imagined bending her over my desk so fast my diploma falls off the wall.

She offered me chocolate.

I said no. Which should qualify me for sainthood or at least an honorary cold shower from the Vatican.

She sucked it like she wanted me to picture her mouth around something else. I did. I do. I’m still doing it.

Then she started talking about Jett. As if that was safer. As if hearing about her getting fingered in a parking lot by a man I know would somehow help.

She said it flatly. Like a weather report. “Then he fingered me on the motorcycle.”

I should not know that. My body should not have reacted to that.

She mentioned Benji next. Security. Six-four. Kind. Curls.

I should be relieved. I’m not. I feel like I’m being fucking hunted by my own jealousy, which is inappropriate and wildly unethical.

She lit up when she spoke about him. Glowed. And it was the first real thing she gave me today.

She copied his house key. Tracked his location. Left gifts for his ex. Which is criminal, unhinged, and hot.

I keep telling myself she’s just a client. A case file with legs. A walking DSM entry with impeccable taste in skirts and candy.