In the two and a half years I've gone to therapy, I've only not cried a handful of times. I've kinda come to view therapy as my place to cry. Sometimes I'm legitimately upset about something and other times it's just the idea of being vulnerable about my feelings to my therapist that causes the tears to flow. I love my therapist, but it can feel hard and scary to be completely truthful.
My appointments tend to be later in the afternoons. At the end of each session, I gather my used tissues and toss them into the small wicker trash can. And always, without fail, there is a pile of used tissues already in the trash can. And always, without fail, it brings me so much reassurance to see that pile of crumpled tissues, to know that the clients scheduled before me also had tears to shed.
So, if you think you are alone in your sadness, your fears, your anger, your vulnerability, just remember that wicker basket. It's filled with tear-stained tissues, used by people just like you. We are all navigating life as best we can.