Bipolar
I told her that I had been up and down all week. There were occasional periods of confidence and calm. Most of the time I had been fighting with her in my head and I had been dreading this session. But this morning I suddenly perked up and I was almost manic on the drive to see her. Sunshine and love songs.

Notes
I created heaps of notes (many posted here) but as it turned out, I didn’t read any of them, except the statistical observation below.

Spring
Due to my brilliant record keeping and analytical mind, I was able to spot a trend. Six out of seven of ruptures and near-ruptures happened in the spring, four of them in October and November.
T was very interested in this. Her theory is that the approaching year-end upsets me. This is when the year starts winding down and familiar patterns are disrupted. She thought I was reacting to the prospect of not seeing her over the summer. “Dump T before she dumps you” type of thing.
My idea is that the weather is especially bipolar in spring. Also, the sap rises, expectations rise and it is the time for migrations and breeding. I wonder if spring is a traditional time for couples to split up?

Hair
We talked about her hair. I said I couldn’t understand why anyone would want hair like that. It has no body, and while it’s not exactly short, it doesn’t reach to her shoulders.
But why do I notice this? What is it about the hair? Two theories:
1. I have a prejudice that long-haired women are soft and short-haired women are hard. I like my women soft.
2. Short hair means illness. My mother lost her hair during her cancer treatment and sent out pictures of herself looking long-haired and healthy. “This is the way I want to be remembered,” she said.

My Wife
My wife wears her hair long to please me. “It’s lovely,” said T. Her hair is lovely or it’s lovely that she does it for me? “Her hair is lovely.” I was touched that T remembered this, since she’s seen my wife only once, for five seconds in the car park and W was trying not to be seen.
W would be willing to come to therapy with me. This is a really generous gesture because I know how terrified she is. But she’d do it for me.
I’d rather not bring anyone until my mood is a bit more stable.

My Daughter
I told T my daughter is a good kid. If she sees the act being sick, she cleans it up herself without being asked. I was certainly not that helpful at fourteen.
(I told D I had told T she was a good kid. She gave her usual grunt, which I take to mean, “whatever.”)

Mixed Messages
Although T knew I wasn’t having a good session three weeks ago, she couldn’t be sure it was a bad one because I was sending mixed messages. I suggested that mixed messages were the logical consequence of me being in two minds. Could she give me an example? “Hang on, “ she said, “we’ve only just noticed this pattern. I’ll keep an eye out for it in future.”
I said it was scary that she didn’t know how bad it was for me. “Don’t know or don’t care? “ she asked. After some thought, I said I had ample evidence that she cares, but I had nothing to counter the idea that she didn’t know.

Mindfulness
I asked her, does she know about mindfulness and would she teach me. Once again, she said we’ve only just raised the topic and I should be patient. It’s hard to be patient in a panic, I pointed out.
I said people on the internet often talked about mindfulness and it sounds like they have a mindfulness routine of some sort. Maybe I could get a tape? (Showing my age here! Who uses tape these days?)
She said I’d have to find my own path. I said, to my paranoid mind, “Find your own path” sounds like, “You’re on your own.” She said that’s not what she meant at all, but it was good that I was playing back my paranoid interpretations right away so we could both see them.

End
I said, “I’m glad I came.” She said, “I’m glad too.” I asked for a hug and got one.