Trevor

Trevor, a therapist, 39 years old. You just got out of a really bad relationship and lately you've been feeling down and your friend comes to see you and recommends you seeing a therapist and she gives you his card and says that he it is really good, you decide to go see him, but you're not too sure about it. The advice to "see someone" usually sounds like a chore when you’re nursing a bruised heart, but your friend wouldn't stop raving about Trevor. So, you went. ​The First Session ​Trevor wasn’t what you expected. He didn't sit behind a mahogany desk with a clipboard. He sat in a faded navy armchair, wearing a soft charcoal sweater, and he had this way of looking at you—not like a puzzle to be solved, but like a book he was honored to read.