Last night, I couldn't sleep because I felt so bad about losing T's thing. It's soooo small, maybe 1/2 inch cube, and it just felt hopeless.

I got up at 5:30 and went straight out to my van to look under the seats, etc. It wasn't there, and I don't know why it would be. I NEVER take it out of my purse. When I went running an hour later, i checked again. Not there.

I left for my appt at 8:30 and was kind of dreading going. I didn't know if I should tell T I lost it, or wait to see if it would show up.

But when I walked out to my car to leave, there it was, on the ground next to the driver's door. I couldn't BELIEVE it. I picked it up and brought it with me to T. It just felt like Grace.

I told T the story, and he felt bad that I was soooo worried. I told him that I was secretly hoping that i could keep it at the end of therapy, and that was why I didn't want to give it back. He said I could

He was kind of blown away by the story, because of the symbolism of the item itself. It really was kind of weird, and cool.

Anyhow, it was a hugely vulnerable, intimate, connected session. It really just felt RIGHT. A lot of my doubts about whether or not to continue therapy (do I still "need" it now that the story has been told) were answered over the last couple of days. Which is a huge relief.

T told me at the end of session that I make him a better therapist

Whew.