Judged Without a Word: The Social Execution of Neurodivergent Minds

Have you ever witnessed someone forming rigid, absolute opinions about a person they’ve never even spoken to? Naturally, to comment meaningfully on someone’s character — unless they’re a historical figure — we must have actually met them. When we rely solely on what others say, misinformation is inevitable. While personality may show certain consistent traits, relationships are, at their core, subjective experiences. This is why, particularly in couples therapy, therapists are taught to listen supportively and non-judgementally to both parties. No one is ever entirely at fault. Even in extreme cases — infidelity, for instance — we are still expected to hear the story of the person who betrayed. This is Communication 101.

So why is it that once we step outside the therapy room, we so easily jump to conclusions — especially about those who are just a little bit different from us? The purpose of this article is to advocate for those “different from us” — to raise awareness about the psychological harm and social exclusion neurodivergent individuals endure, often based on second-, third-, or even fourth-hand narratives. These are people many of us have never even spoken to — and yet we feel entitled to judge and ostracise them.

What Is Neurodivergence?

Let me begin with a relatively new term entering modern psychology: neurodivergent individuals. While not yet included as a formal umbrella category in manuals like the DSM-5-TR or ICD-11 (APA, 2022; WHO, 2022), it is expected that the concept will gradually be integrated into diagnostic frameworks.

Neurodivergent individuals are those whose brains process information, language, attention, emotions, or sensory input in ways that deviate from neurotypical norms (Singer, 1999; Armstrong, 2010). These are individuals who don’t follow predictable patterns in cognition and behaviour — instead, they move through life like unexpected rhythms in a piece of music. Like postmodern jazz.

Neurotypical individuals are those whose cognitive and social development aligns with average societal norms. Their brain development progresses along statistically common trajectories — in terms of IQ, social functioning, and even educational background. They make up the majority. In contrast, neuroatypical individuals show alternative developmental pathways — sometimes due to subtle structural or hormonal differences in the brain (e.g., intrauterine testosterone levels) (Baron-Cohen et al., 2002).

From Microaggressions to Structural Exclusion

These individuals face persistent discrimination — in schools, workplaces, and within group dynamics. They’ve often internalised this mistreatment from early childhood, normalising the cold shoulders, the ridicule, the sighs. One contributing factor may be the lack of behavioural filtering seen in some neurodivergent profiles. In psychological terms, this means lower inhibitory control. They often wear their emotions on their sleeve — a phrase commonly used in English-speaking cultures.

In fact, British culture, which places high value on emotional restraint, might even consider saying “I like you” as a bold example of “wearing your emotions on your sleeve.” Cultural perception plays a large role here.

What we label as a disorder — or, in more modern psychological discourse, as a “difference” — is deeply shaped by cultural context. A person who might be diagnosed with Histrionic Personality Disorder in Sweden could simply be seen as “passionate” in Italy (Henrich et al., 2010). Emotional expression, social pace, and even conversational norms differ vastly between East Asia and the Mediterranean.

What Conditions Fall Under Neurodivergence?

            •           Asperger’s / High-Functioning Autism: Difficulty with social communication, intense interest areas, reliance on routines. Now categorised under Autism Spectrum Disorder in the DSM-5 (APA, 2022).

            •           ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder): Challenges with impulsivity, sustained attention, and executive functioning.

            •           Dyslexia: Difficulties in reading and processing written language.

            •           Dyscalculia: Struggles with mathematical concepts and numerical reasoning.

            •           Tourette’s Syndrome: A neurodevelopmental condition involving motor and vocal tics (Robertson, 2015).

The Real Struggle: Misinterpretation and Literal Thinking

One of the most significant challenges for neurodivergent individuals is their tendency to interpret language literally. They may miss implied meanings or struggle with inside jokes. They are often painfully direct — not because they lack tact, but because their thinking is structured differently. This directness, when filtered through the lens of neurotypical norms, is often mistaken for rudeness or arrogance. Their expansive vocabularies and use of less common or “archaic” words further separate them from mainstream social fluency.

As a result, in professional or academic settings, they are often labeled as cold, overly formal, or socially awkward. This leads to reputational harm — exclusion from opportunities, misunderstandings in communication, and, ultimately, loss of trust or status in competitive environments.

This harm is most profound in cultures like Turkey or many Middle Eastern societies, where collectivism and conformity are emphasised. In such environments, deviation from behavioural norms can trigger swift social sanctions. Meanwhile, in places like Northern Europe, despite higher emotional inhibition, tolerance for cognitive and neurological difference is often stronger, rooted in a broader respect for individual rights.

Now let’s imagine the most privileged among neurodivergent individuals — the “Asperger-types,” the gifted minds with access to books, languages, and self-development. If lucky, they may succeed in migrating to more accepting countries, where they find belonging and recognition. But even then, success is often not fulfillment — it’s escape. The desire to belong still lingers, unfulfilled.

But what about those with dyslexia, dyscalculia, or ADHD? Those without the same verbal memory, who struggle silently in rigid systems?

Their struggle is doubly difficult — not just because of their brain’s wiring, but because society is determined to kick them while they’re already down. Judgment, exclusion, gossip — these are their everyday realities.

Neurodivergent individuals aren’t asking for pity. They’re asking for space. In a capitalist world obsessed with uniformity and performance, making space for difference is not a favour — it’s a moral obligation. If we fail to create inclusive academic, professional, and social spaces, we will continue to lose intellectual, creative, and human potential.

We don’t need a world of one color. We need the courage to let each hue shine.

Long live the countries, institutions, and communities that embrace neurodivergent minds — not in spite of their difference, but because of it.

Those Who Don’t Arrive on Time –On Being Late and Waiting as a Human Experience

When someone is late, I don’t feel a knot in my chest.

On the contrary, time expands.

That gap becomes a rare opportunity to be with myself.

I order a coffee, jot down a few notes, take in the surroundings.

Until the person arrives, I remain with myself.

In that moment, it’s not the plan that matters, but presence.

And sometimes, the cancellation of a plan is a quiet restoration of the mind.

Being late, or cancelling a meeting, is not a rupture for me.

It’s simply a fragment in the natural rhythm of life.

And how that fragment is received often reveals a person’s inner posture.

I see these moments as an inner recalibration—a quiet attempt to align the uncertainty outside with the stillness within.

Because some moments are not relational, but deeply personal.

And to me, emotional maturity means leaning not on external order, but on inner balance.

Whoever comes, whatever happens…

The real question is—am I anchored in myself?

When meetings are delayed, I turn to my book, not my watch.

I don’t see waiting as emptiness, but as spaciousness.

I order a coffee, observe the world, return to my breath.

Because someone not showing up doesn’t mean I lose my sense of being.

Trying to fit life into precise minutes is like trying to control it politely.

But time is not our servant.

No matter how carefully we plan, the road sometimes stretches, the heart sometimes pauses, and sometimes—nothing happens at all.

And that, too, is part of life.

Cancellations…

I no longer hear “I can’t make it” as a rejection, but as a form of honesty.

And instead of resenting it, I try to meet that honesty with shared spaciousness.

Creating space is not only a gift we offer others, but one we grant ourselves.

When someone doesn’t come, I get to choose how to spend that moment.

Going home becomes a gift to myself.

Or walking alone through a street, listening to whatever music I like—perhaps even dancing a little—can become more precious than any scheduled plan.

Sometimes I ask myself:

Does someone being late mean the whole relationship is invalid?

Does a cancelled meeting cancel out the love too?

The mind rushes to answer, but the heart takes its time.

And I’m learning to trust the rhythm of the heart.

Connecting with someone doesn’t just mean celebrating their presence—it also means holding space for their absence.

Not necessarily without being hurt,

but without turning that hurt into anger.

It’s not about staying silent instead of expressing,

but about speaking from the right place, at the right time.

Because connection is not built through perfectly timed moments,

but through how we hold space in imperfect ones.

And true love doesn’t need everything to be on time.

To welcome someone without resentment when they finally arrive,

To say, “Don’t worry, while I waited I also took care of some things,”

To respond to a cancellation not with cold distance, but with:

“Shall we plan another time instead?”

This is where the elegance of human relationship lives.

Sometimes love is expressed not by doing something,

but by choosing not to.

Not pressuring, not interrogating, not judging.

Reading a book while waiting,

Not sending five messages to cause panic,

But keeping your own inner space intact—so that there’s room for someone else too.

Because we breathe best in the relationships where we’re allowed space.

And perhaps the truest bonds are not built when everyone arrives on time,

but when each person is allowed their own timing.

Maybe this understanding begins in childhood—

those moments when no one came on time,

when we were left waiting, forgotten, postponed…

A part of us then learned:

“If they’re late, they must not love me.”

And as adults, that part still flinches.

It feels like being forgotten all over again.

But now, we can take that child’s hand and gently say:

“This time is not the same as last time.”

Creating space means softening—

for the other, and for the older stories within us.

Not every cancellation is abandonment.

Not every silence is disinterest.

Not every delay is rejection.

Perhaps adulthood truly begins when we can calm that child within us,

and still love…

even those who arrive late.

Because the deepest bonds are not built on perfect harmony,

but on the grace that survives disruption.

Someone cancels on me—I might feel disappointed.

But that doesn’t mean I must set fire to the connection.

Sometimes, waiting for someone even though they’re late

is the clearest sign of inner maturity.

Life rarely unfolds exactly as we plan.

And maturity is not about fixing every imperfection,

but about meeting some of them with calm acceptance.

A meeting falls through. Someone’s late. Someone doesn’t show up at all…

And still, we can remain centered.

Because sometimes, what defines a moment is not what happens,

but how we stand in it.

And maybe the wisest souls are not those who always arrive,

but those who know how to wait—

without turning waiting into judgment.

Those Who Envy Us and Those We Envy…

Envy is not just wanting what someone else has. According to psychoanalyst Melanie Klein, envy also involves a wish to destroy what the other person has. It isn’t only “I wish I had that,” but also “I wish you didn’t.” It carries a darker undertone. That’s why envy is rarely expressed openly in adulthood. Instead, it shows up as fake smiles, missed congratulations, or slowly fading friendships.

Recently, I noticed how muted people’s reactions were when someone in their circle achieved something significant. A major accomplishment was shared online, but the post stayed eerily quiet. Friends who’d known this person for years didn’t comment or congratulate them. The silence didn’t feel like apathy. It felt like emotional overload. As Adam Phillips says, envy is often triggered by people we compare ourselves to—not distant figures, but those closest to us.

According to Heinz Kohut, envy appears where self-esteem is fragile. Someone else’s success feels like our own failure. One person’s light casts another’s shadow. This is especially true among relatives, close friends, or people who started their journeys from similar places. When one rises, the other may feel left behind.

Clients in therapy rarely use the word “envy” directly. But they’ll say things like:

“I congratulated them, but it stung a little.”

“I don’t feel as close to them anymore.”

“I don’t know why, but I feel some distance.”

These often point to an old wound of not being seen, a sense of being left behind, or an internalised comparison.

Psychoanalyst Jessica Benjamin says that healthy bonding depends on both people in a relationship being able to express their subjective experience. Unfortunately, in many relationships, this symmetry collapses. One person shines, the other falls silent. That silence can slowly grow into distance—and even rupture.

Envy is not a bad emotion. But when it is denied or unacknowledged, it can quietly poison a relationship. In therapy, however, envy can open a door. Because it tells us what we value, what we long for, and in which areas we want to be recognised. Envy, therefore, is not a feeling to be judged—but to be understood.

As in so many childhood stories, envy often arises in the struggle for love. “My sibling got more attention” can resurface years later at work or in friendships. The praise someone else receives may echo a voice inside us that was never heard as a child.

Maybe that’s why the most meaningful congratulations are the heartfelt ones. Sometimes a message, a look, or an honest sentence is enough:

“I celebrate your success. I wish I could be a successful musician/painter/scientist/writer/entrepreneur/astronaut like you. Even if I didn’t follow that path, I’m proud to have a friend/sibling/cousin like you who did.”

And perhaps the most mature form of love is being able to recognise your own vulnerability in the face of someone else’s success—yet still speak up, still offer congratulations, still share in their joy.

When we envy someone’s success, our hope should be to notice that feeling, regulate it, and better yet, grow from it.

Instead of staying silent in the face of a musician we envy, let’s celebrate them—and practise more ourselves.

Or that business venture you always dreamed of? Let your friend’s success inspire you, and take your own steps forward.

We—especially in Central and East Asian cultures—are descendants of those who grow through mutual support.

All for one, and one for all.

π

Tested by Time: A Psychological Perspective on Being Late

Some people seem to place the entire weight of a relationship on a few minutes of delay. As if a slight shift in time could constitute a personal offense or moral failure. And yet, often, nothing is wrong. No crisis has occurred. Just a little change in rhythm.

People can be late. There might be traffic. An unexpected emotional wave. A sudden twist in the day. This is part of living. Time is not a rigid line. It is a presence that flows and bends with the pace of those inhabiting it. Still, when we assign absolute meaning to the clock, the smallest deviations begin to feel like betrayals. But in truth, flexibility is the root of trust, maturity, and meaningful connection.

When someone arrives late, I often see it as a quiet gift. I read. I revisit my notes. I answer long-forgotten messages or simply breathe. That space becomes a moment to meet myself, not a void waiting to be filled with irritation.

Others, however, interpret that same moment as a stage for punishment or criticism. But weren’t we meeting to soften life, to be present for one another? Not to police time as if it were a moral scale.

In human-centred spaces, whether a friendship, a therapeutic encounter, or a professional meeting, the intention behind presence speaks more than the punctuality of arrival. Holding someone hostage to the minute hand rarely nurtures depth. Often it reflects control, not care.

Virginia Satir once said that people grow not through perfection, but through acceptance. When we feel threatened, we become rigid. We hide in roles, defend boundaries, and lose our natural capacity to meet the moment as it is. Growth only becomes possible in the presence of emotional safety. And safety is built not through precision, but through compassion.

There is a quote of hers that continues to shape my understanding of relationships:

“I want to love you without clutching, appreciate you without judging, join you without invading, invite you without demanding, leave you without guilt, criticize you without blaming, and help you without insulting.”

Being late is not always a disregard. It can be a sign of an inner storm. Making space for that without judgment is, perhaps, the most human thing we can do. Those five minutes are not a test. But how we respond to them might be.

I no longer choose to work within frameworks that offer no room for human rhythm. I want to move with people who honour time not just by the clock, but by presence. People who understand that compassion is not the enemy of professionalism.

Because punctuality matters, yes.

But more than that, may we remain human.

How we treat time is how we treat people.

And the deepest form of respect is not control, but care.

The π

The Intelligence We Refuse to See

Whilst reading Prof. Dr. Onur Güntürkün‘s research on the avian brain I noticed that they can be quite smart!

Neuropsychologists can train pigeons to sort images — flowers, chairs, patterns. They learn categories, even abstract ones (Wasserman et al., 2024). They grasp complexity, adapt to new rules (Pusch et al., 2024). We applaud their minds — on paper.

Yet their cousins, the chickens, remain invisible. Not mindless, just misjudged. Because if we saw their minds, we’d have to see our own contradictions.

Cognition is not a privilege of language. It is not human-only. It is not permission to dominate.

What if these studies are not just about birds? What if they’re quiet arguments for empathy — in the lab, and at the table?

Selected References

Pusch, R., Stüttgen, M. C., Packheiser, J., Azizi, A. H., Sevincik, C. S., Rose, J., Cheng, S., & Güntürkün, O. (2024). Working memory performance is tied to stimulus complexity. Communications Biology, 7, Article 1326. https://doi.org/10.1038/s42003-023-05486-7

Wasserman, E. A., Turner, B. M., & Güntürkün, O. (2024). The pigeon as a model of complex visual processing and category learning. Neuroscience Insights, 19, 1–5. https://doi.org/10.1177/26331055241235918

Why I Don’t Believe in the Title ‘Child and Adolescent Therapist’

It’s written everywhere—on clinic doors, websites, LinkedIn bios:
“Child and Adolescent Therapist.”

But as someone deeply committed to developmental neuroscience and therapeutic integrity, I’ll say this clearly:

Children and adolescents are not the same.
And pretending they are does a disservice to both.

The Brain Doesn’t Lie

A child’s brain and a teenager’s brain are not simply younger or older versions of each other. They are fundamentally different organisms in terms of structure, function, and regulation.

1. Myelination: Speed of Thought
In early childhood, the brain’s executive functions are still under construction. Myelination—the process that speeds up neural communication—is slow and uneven. Children live in the world of now, with limited foresight or inhibition. They don’t just need therapy; they need your nervous system as an anchor.

In adolescence, the emotional brain (limbic system) races ahead, while the prefrontal cortex (rational control) lags behind. This creates the infamous teenage turbulence: intense emotion with minimal regulation. Here, the therapist becomes a boundary-holder, not a co-regulator.

2. Synaptic Pruning: Jungle vs. Garden
Children’s brains are like a lush jungle—bursting with synaptic connections. They’re wide open, absorbing everything. Therapy must be sensory-rich, structured, and playful.

Teenagers, however, are pruning the excess. Their brains are streamlining—deciding who they are, what they care about, and what gets cut. Therapy here must honour identity exploration, autonomy, and cognitive sophistication. Clay and metaphor won’t reach a defended 16-year-old struggling with existential dread.

3. Limbic–Cortical Integration: Emotions vs. Reason
Children externalise emotion. Their regulation is social—dependent on attachment and sensory cues. Therapy must include the body, breath, symbol, and parent.

Adolescents internalise and intellectualise. They test boundaries. They want a witness, not a playmate. They need someone who won’t flinch at their rage, sarcasm, or silence.

The Therapist Must Choose

Of course, some clinicians do shift masterfully between child and adolescent work. But it’s rare. The posture, method, and energy required for each is distinct. Personally?

I am a co-regulator. I work best when I can meet a child in their emotional rawness, build symbolic bridges, and offer a nervous system steadier than their own.

Does that mean I don’t work with teens? Not necessarily. But it does mean I choose with intention—not branding.

Let’s Be Honest About Specialisation

The title “Child and Adolescent Therapist” may serve paperwork and marketing. But in practice, we owe our clients more precision. Children don’t need someone who tolerates play. They need someone who thrives in it. Adolescents don’t need someone who enjoys deep talk. They need someone who can survive the storm of separation and self-definition.

If we are to be ethically aligned with brain development, we must be willing to say:
“I specialise in children.”
or
“I specialise in adolescents.”
or
“I know where my skill ends—and I refer with respect beyond it.”


This is not about superiority. It’s about specificity. Children and adolescents are both sacred, sensitive stages. They deserve therapists who speak their language—neurologically, emotionally, and relationally.

Let’s stop selling ourselves short with generic titles.
Let’s claim who we truly serve—and serve them with everything we’ve got.

π

Eight

I remember the minute
It was like a switch was flipped
I was just a kid who grew up strong enough
To pick this armour up
And suddenly it fit

God, that was so long ago, long ago, long ago
I was little, I was weak and perfectly naive
And I grew up too quick

Now you won’t see all that I have to lose
And all I’ve lost in the fight to protect it
I won’t let you in, I swore never again
I can’t afford, no, I refuse to be rejected

I want to break these bones ’til they’re better
I want to break them right and feel alive

You were wrong, you were wrong, you were wrong
My healing needed more than time

When I see fragile things, helpless things, broken things
I see the familiar

I was little, I was weak, I was perfect, too
Now I’m a broken mirror

But I can’t let you see all that I have to lose
All I’ve lost in the fight to protect it
I can’t let you in, I swore never again
I can’t afford to let myself be blindsided

I’m standing guard, I’m falling apart
And all I want is to trust you
Show me how to lay my sword down
For long enough to let you through

Here I am, pry me open
What do you want to know?
I’m just a kid who grew up scared enough
To hold the door shut
And bury my innocence
But here’s a map, here’s a shovel
Here’s my Achilles’ heel

I’m all in, palms out
I’m at your mercy now and I’m ready to begin
I am strong, I am strong, I am strong enough to let you in

I’ma shake the ground with all my might
And I will pull my whole heart up to the surface
For the innocent, for the vulnerable
And I’ll show up on the front lines with a purpose

And I’ll give all I have, I’ll give my blood, give my sweat
An ocean of tears will spill for what is broken

I’m shattered porcelain, glued back together again
Invincible like I’ve never been

End Of An Era

He chose to celebrate my birthday in the most unusual way.

By making me hear his name through the phone—spoken by a cop—he helped me break the bond I had to him.

He did the lowest he could ever do.

There it was, an angelic mask was fallen off fully and it was made of glass.

Now no Japanese technique can mend it.

This is him.

Following his daddy’s commands at the age of 31.

It is pathetic, I am truly sorry for him.

He needs to obey his daddy to “fight” me.

I don’t care about him anymore.

I won’t fight his old parents.

They can’t race my life energy.

And I will enjoy anything that will follow-

The bad as well.

I admit- I enjoy winning every game I play in,

Or being dragged into those games by force.

I embrace all the chaos life brings.

Give the chaos to me,

And let me swallow it at once.

He knows that I can’t be defeated with brute force,

or enforcements.

Yet his father still can’t accept that

I am stronger than all of them.

Yet he still obeys his father,

Like a loyal German Shepherd-

can’t distinguish between the humanistic psychotherapist

and the positive punishment utiliser, cruel behaviourist scientist.

He has learned to obey.

I am sorry for him still.

Wish he was a Lion,

Independent and free to love what his heart truly loved.

I am sorry that his father did not let him love nor live.

Today, he gave me his best present ever-

the present of setting me free of,

unconditional love.

My heart is free of chains, again.

Yet he is chained with his parents’ desires all around.

PS. I wish he had chosen the civil way not the offensive way. Not that I am hurt, but that he’ll be hurt…

I still am sorry for his unfulfilled desires. But the war is accepted on the offences. Just like Atatürk did to Anzac soldiers, his losses will be respected in the land of my generous heart. 🖤

Tell his mama that sent his son from a gigantic love to a cruel war, his heart is now lying in the bosom of my past and in peace.

Love and Marriage in the Shadow of Infidelity: A Therapeutic Perspective.

Every year seems to chip away at our families, love, respect, and friendships

I was reminded of this while reading Alfred Adler, the renowned Austrian psychiatrist and psychologist of the 19th century.

In his book, Adler argues that if we feel interest and affection for someone, we must embody all the qualities that such interest demands. These include:

  • Honesty
  • Being a good friend
  • A sense of responsibility
  • Loyalty and trustworthiness

I believe that anyone who hasn’t managed to build a loving and committed relationship needs to recognise where they may have gone wrong.

Adler wrote this in 1913—111 years ago! His insights still resonate today.

Of course, problematic relationships have always existed, but back then, expert psychologists didn’t suggest things like, “Don’t interfere with each other; give each other space. Cheating before marriage is perfectly natural. Wedding stress can lead to infidelity, and these issues can be resolved and forgiven.”

Now, however, this is the prevailing attitude in both Europe and America. The year is 2024.

I’ve received couples therapy training from various institutes in America and Europe, and I continue to learn from different schools of thought.

Sadly, the situation isn’t promising for those who share Adler’s perspective.

We’re taught to tell clients who have been cheated on that reconciliation is possible and that peace can be restored.

As one of the few couples therapists who believes that remaining in a relationship marked by infidelity can harm both partners’ self-respect, I focus my sessions on empowering the betrayed partner.

In those moments, I no longer see a couple; I see someone who has been deceived and disrespected.

I help this person remember their worth and cultivate self-love and respect.

As for my training instructors, they tell couples that these situations can be mended. And from what I can see, they genuinely believe in this possibility.

If even deep-seated traumas can be healed, can the pain of a loved one turning their back on you, deceiving you, and developing feelings for someone else truly be resolved?

Can that knowledge simply be erased from memory? Can we accept it as normal?

According to the latest trends: yes.

They argue that instead of shouting at the child who spills milk, we should simply clean it up. That’s their analogy.

As I listen, I can’t help but chuckle wryly. However, I keep my “backward” thoughts to myself for fear they might disrupt their business.

After all, sharing my views might even make them feel unethical. Critiquing so-called experts often leads to backlash.

Yet I have long since dismissed them in my heart, guided by my respect for love. I know that attempting to correct their beliefs is futile.

Their underlying thought on infidelity among couples is simply this:

“If you didn’t value each other despite everything, you wouldn’t have come to me and spent so much money seeking my support.”

Yes, this is what they say amongst themselves—with a hint of mockery and a sense of superiority, forming a commercial coalition.

Now, to them, I’m one of their own.

In it for money, business, and exploiting people…

But I’m nothing like them.

I refuse to trample on people’s souls, their self-esteem, and most importantly…

Love.

Passion.

Family.

Money can always be earned.

My preference is to earn it for the greater good.

As long as people focus solely on their wallets, neither society, family, nor individuals will ever find peace.

In summary:

Don’t keep dishonest individuals in your life, especially those who betray you.

Spend your money not on those who cheat but on those who respect you.

Avoid seeking couples therapy to address infidelity…

No one deserves to be cheated on.

After all, there is no one else quite like you.

I wish for you to find someone who makes you feel special and unique.

Roy Lichtenstein, We Rose Up Slowly, 1964

Couples Therapist Pinar S.