I thought I mentioned this before - my previous pdoc feels emails and phone calls to T, are like his kids knocking on his bedroom door - they wanna know what's going on, and they want to stop it, and they don't like being excluded (ring a bell?). My long-term lady T gave me a similar lecture about phone calls (before email was invented). My current T SOMEHOW sent me an email intended for his girlfriend (and I use the term LOOSELY, if you get my drift), claiming his email was hacked. That cured me of wanting to peek!

I mean, don't you (not just R8) wonder what T's are doing when they get your email? Not to embarrass anybody, but now I know for SURE that mine is answering hot letters from some chickie. But even so, before I would picture him coming home from an evening out and maybe checking for email from his kids, and there is one from ME, sent on a Friday night, what a loser I am.

I was exposed to my parents sex life in a weird way, in that it was in my face but I was supposed to not know it or acknowledge it, and that's what it feels to me is going on here. Something is (or was) going on that was not acknowledged, that made you feel all these feelings that are wrapped up in this. I had spoken to previous T's of my "exposures" but never accessed any feelings. When I got my T's errant email, I worked thru it here on PC and in daily sessions with him for a week, and now I never email him anymore.

More rambling - in the last few years I was computer programming, I was working on programs that were so effed, you could not change them where you expected to change them. You changed some OTHER line of code, tested the program, and if that worked, then that was the right change, even if it didn't look like it. Kinda like adding salt to make a dish taste sweeter. And like my coffee mug example earlier today. We are not cars. You don't fix the part that APPEARS to be broken. You adjust something else, and that fixes the broken part. Heretofore to be known as Hankster's theory of replacivity.