I was living at my birth home. Five or six of us were having dinner at the kitchen table. I think I had finished eating so I got up and went into the living room. I was standing by a window thinking about something and felt my eyes begin to water so I went into my bedroom so no one would see. I was standing by the back window in my bedroom. The blinds were drawn halfway up and just partially open. There were curtain panels on each side of the window, pulled back with tiebacks. The window itself was open, though the screen was in. I was standing by the left curtain panel looking out the window and began to cry. It started to rain. I just stood and watched and listened to it rain, continuing to cry softly. I didn't want anyone to know or hear that I was crying. The rain became much, much more intense. It was blowing into the room through the screen. I stood there for several minutes before I realized this. When I finally noticed, I looked down and there was a pool of water on the hardwood floor along the wall, about the width of the window. I don't know why it would have pooled there rather than running out over the rest of the floor. I quickly ran out of the bedroom to the bathroom. There was a pile of towels on the floor. I was trying to find one that didn't feel too wet. I finally just took one and went back into the bedroom to mop up the water. As I was doing this I heard someone call me, telling me there was someone there to see me. I quickly went into the hallway, just far enough for him to see me so I could tell him to come back to my room. I still didn't want my family to see that I had been crying and I didn't want to leave him standing out there long enough for any of them to ask who he was or to ask him any questions. It was my therapist. He was a very thin man, about six-feet tall, with very short brown hair parted on the left side. He was wearing a suit and tie and glasses that had thick black frames. He came into my room and closed the door behind him. There was a chair sitting in-between the wall and the bed, kind of in the middle of that area and facing the back window. I returned to standing by the window where I had been. I was thinking that my parents were going to be upset about a man being in my bedroom and I would need to explain who it was and why I took him in my bedroom. I decided I would just tell them he was a professional acquaintance and I just needed to talk to him someplace that I would be assured of privacy, that no one would overhear or walk in on our conversation before we would realize it. There was something about our conversation that I wasn't being very nice in the way I answered his questions.