I feel better today than I have for the past week or so. So as I settle myself on the floor in E’s office and she asks me what we should focus on in today’s session, I think to myself, Be brave. Use this time well. You know that taking risks is what moves you…
The retreat I wrote about in earlier posts has been a big deal for me. In some ways, I feel it was a giant emotional step forward. That doesn’t mean everything’s solved and clear and happy now (wouldn’t that be nice). It just means in the long slow therapeutic process of healing, I feel like…
Even when therapeutic relationship is good, my sense that my therapist is getting tired of me is painfully close to the surface.
Today’s story is about thoughtlessness, uncertainty, fear, responsibility, and why I probably shouldn’t text with my therapist, even though I would hate to give it up.
I love being able to text with my therapist, but sometimes it doesn’t work quite the way I want it to.
I think I’m handling it all so well, but I’m kidding myself. I want to be that mature and understanding person, but in fact I’m a bratty child inside.
Ouch – my therapist and I stumble across my pain, and hers.