From the author: With this essay I open the series of publications “Notes from a psychotherapist/client”, based on personal experience, psychotherapeutic practice, the experience of friends and fantasy. You have been waiting for it for a very long time. You cried, but she still didn’t come. Tension covered your whole body from tears, but it still didn’t go away. You didn't know when she would come - you lived outside of time. When she was around you felt good, when she wasn’t there you felt bad. You didn’t know anything else. You thought she would never come. You ceased to exist. And then she came, took you in your arms, you continued to sob convulsively for a long time, and then you were released... You went limp in her arms, became water, and she - warm jets. You mixed and became one. Then you got older, you already knew that she would return sooner or later. But for now she’s gone—and you’re gone. You held your breath and shrank all over. And the illness came. Then she was there all day, she came running at your first call, gave you warm milk with foam, put a prickly scarf around your neck and buried something nasty in your nose, but you were ready endure all this, just so that she would look at you, touch you, talk to you. And one day, when she left, you realized that you are You, and she is Mom.***When you were born, you already I was not like everyone else back then. It seemed like you were skinless. When you grew up, you saw and heard things that others did not see or hear. Everything from within overwhelmed you and was rushing out! But adults didn’t like it when you violently expressed your emotions, and didn’t always like it when you asked awkward questions. They spanked you, put you in a corner, took you away from the playground, or simply tried not to notice you... One day you understood everything: “I’m probably a freak!” And you can’t let this be noticed, otherwise mom and dad will stop loving me and I’ll die.” From that moment on, you learned to hide your emotions and rarely shared your thoughts. You accepted the rules of the game. And your thoughts became more and more numerous, and they increasingly did not correspond to what was being said around you. You wondered: “Why don’t adults see what I see? Why don't they say what they think? Why don't they do what they say? Why do they spank me for hitting someone on the playground and then tell me that fighting is wrong? Why doesn't dad allow you to watch TV, but mom always turns on cartoons? Why does mom say that eating sweets is bad for you and why does she eat chocolate every day? Why do parents say that children are born out of love, but they themselves never kiss? Where did I come from?” Your world was not at all the way others saw it. There were two options - either there was something wrong with you, or with them. You felt lonely and didn’t know where to stick. You went into your own world. You invented fairy-tale characters for yourself and played with them for a long time. You rearranged the figures on the sideboard, matching them with pairs. You played dominoes and checkers with yourself. You always missed your mother. Even when she was around, you missed her. Every summer you were sent to the dacha with a kindergarten. They gave you a botanist and a net so that you could catch butterflies and not get bored. But you quickly got tired of catching cabbage and lemongrass, and there were few beautiful butterflies. You found a large jar and began collecting caterpillars, scary furry caterpillars, which are disgusting to even hold in your hands. You carefully tore off the branches on which they were sitting - the caterpillar is easy to damage, you heard about it on TV. You made holes in the lid with a nail so that they would have something to breathe. Every morning you replaced the dry leaves with fresh ones, ventilated the jar, watched how they grew, how they were wrapped in a sticky web and weaved a cocoon. The pupae needed warmth and moisture, otherwise they could dry out and die, or the butterflies would turn out defective. Fortunately, the summer was hot, and you sometimes sprinkled the leaves with water. Then butterflies hatched from the pupae and hung on the twigs that you put in the jar - they needed to hang down to spread their wings. And one day... you opened the jar and released them to freedom... The butterflies joyfully fluttered out and circled above your head, as if winking with their blue!