In my first round of therapy in my late 20's, when I had a somewhat high-powered job, I would arrive at therapy in my business suit and fancy briefcase. I will never forget the first time I popped open my briefcase and out popped my bright orange stuffed orangutan, "Oliver." He came flying out of there like one of those trick potato chip canisters with a fake snake inside.

My T at the time, an unflappable psychodynamic-oriented gentle man, practically fell on the floor laughing. I failed to get anywhere near such a reaction from him in the 2 years that followed.

My current T has some pillows in his office that can be lovely to squeeze.

Anne